How This Time Will Be Different Part 2 Clana
by ajfinn
Summary: PART 2 of completed story. Clark & Lana make confessions that bring their destinies closer. Isobel’s prewitch past is visited through Lana’s dreams, where she discovers what events led to Isobel’s fall, and the mysterious man who stole her heart.


**THIS IS PART TWO OF THE STORY …. "How 'This Time' Will be Different," by ajfinn. **

Part 51:

"Just as I suspected, Kent, you have an awful lot to learn about women!" said Mr. Olsen, slapping his leg as he hooted with laughter and turning the color of a blistering sunburn.

Lana suddenly felt more embarrassed for Clark than she did for herself. She was leaning in to comfort him, when he also did the same. They bumped heads and started laughing along with everyone else. "I'm so sorry, Lana," Clark whispered. "I swear I wasn't thinking about anything real, I was just trying to rhyme words. I'm an idiot—I know."

"Only when it comes to poetry," she said, kissing his forehead as though their sudden encounter had wounded him. She then turned to Mr. Olsen. "Clark may not come across as the most sensitive of guys, but in Smallville, he's saved both mine and Chloe's lives countless times—along with about half the town. I don't think the world will ever know another man as caring and selfless as Clark Kent."

Mr. Olsen stopped laughing, his cheery expression falling like a landslide. "You're very much in love with him, aren't you, Miss Lang?"

Lana nodded, looking up at Clark. "Yes, very much."

"Then, my apologies, Kent," he said. "No poetry is needed—this girl of yours is already captured—hook, line and sinker." He said it as though he was putting a seal of corporate approval on their relationship.

Clark smiled. "Thank heavens," he said. "I'd probably lose her for good if I made another attempt at it."

"I'm afraid you may lose ALL of us," Chloe said, for the first time getting chills as she watched the two of them together. What was happening to her? The past few days, she'd come to accept the inevitable, but now she was just plain bursting for them to be together. "But as Lana said, you've always been there when I needed you most, so we'll forgive your sad attempt at spouting Shakespeare."

Since Mr. Olsen stopped speaking, Lana's attention had remained on him—watching something peculiar. If she wasn't mistaken, his chin was starting to quiver, and his eyes were filling with tears.

And then Mr. Olsen confirmed it. "Oh, my . . . how much you two remind me of when Jimmy's mother and I first fell in love," he said, wiping a crocodile tear from his cheek. "We couldn't stop looking at one another."

Clark and Lana only nodded at the solemn moment, wondering what tragedy befell his wife. Chloe gave Jimmy a strange look, and he buried his face in his hands.

Mr. Olsen continued. "For every man, there is a woman who gives him the desire to reach for the stars—be the man he couldn't have been without her," he said, sniffing and wiping. "Without my wife . . . my dear Patty . . . the reason I draw breath . . . " It was obvious that he was on the verge of sobbing, and both Clark and Lana were completely tearing up, trying hard to hold it in. "Oh, how I MISS her . . . "

Jimmy bumped Clark, gaining Lana's attention as well. "Uhh, guys. My mom's been in Aruba for the last week with her sisters," he said. "Dad just has a really difficult time when she's not around."

Clark and Lana both went from the depths of sorrow to having to suppress hysterical laughter in a matter of moments, because that would've been terribly rude—Mr. Olsen was still weeping. Instead they just looked at one another with wide eyes, and gripped hands.

Mr. Olsen excused himself, saying he had to make a 'desperate phone call to his sweetheart'.

"I gotta get me some of that," Chloe whispered with a gentle smile, then glanced away when Jimmy's eyes darted to her.

"Yeah, it used to make me sick to watch them when I was a kid," Jimmy said. "But now that I know how rare it is to find a relationship like they have, it's kinda cool. I mean—definitely embarrassing sometimes—like now, for instance, but still something I want for myself."

Clark would've announced that his parents were similar to Jimmy's but didn't want to put Chloe or Lana on the spot to talk about their own parents. Clark had already shoved his foot in his mouth with the poetry, he didn't want to start gagging on it.

After further chit-chat, everyone cleared the table and started doing dishes together. Mr. Olsen finally re-entered as a completely composed, new man. "All right—back to business!" he said, waving a notepad in his hand. "I've got a lunch appointment in two hours, so we need to focus on what you kids need to get that scummy Luthor off your backs."

"Not here, Dad," Jimmy said. "Let's head back to the Grand Hang-out."

"Ah, yes, of course," Mr. Olsen said, spinning on his heel, and waving for everyone to follow him out of the kitchen.

"The Grand Hang-out?" Clark said under his breath, with a sideways glance to Lana.

Jimmy heard him and looked back. "It's where my Dad found you two this morning," he said with a smile. "What else would you call a room like that?"

Clark shrugged, knowing Mr. Olsen well enough by now to realize everything was 'grand' to him. As well as very original, in every sense. "The name fits perfectly."

Not having the helicopter and Lana's sexy morning hair on his mind this time, Clark saw that the room really was a 'hang-out' on the grandest scale. The large room was stuffed with plush sectionals, a theater screen, dart boards, a pool table, table tennis . . . the entertainment was endless. Yeah, this was definitely a cool place to hide out from Lex. He couldn't help but put his arm around Chloe and give her a squeeze. "Good find, Chlo . . . the guy, I mean," he said, when Jimmy was out of ear-shot.

She beamed. "Yeah, I know."

When they'd all settled down among the facing couches, Mr. Olsen took up his notepad and pen and began to write. "First, I need the correct spelling of your full names—that's critical."

"Why?" Jimmy asked.

His dad gave him a look that said 'I'm the expert here, son'. "Because you'll all be on flights to LA this afternoon, and I need to make the reservations—with your credit cards, mind you. I'll reimburse the cost right now." He reached into his pocket and started pulling out bills from his wallet.

Everyone stiffened and looked around. That was not in their plan. They didn't want to run from Lex, just fix the situation.

"You won't REALLY be off to LA, you dunderheads," Mr. Olsen said, waving away the silly notion. "But if Lex is looking for you, he'll tap into the flights out of Metropolis—and there you'll be—on your way to sunny California!"

Everyone was giving impressed nods—except for Chloe, who was too shrewd to agree so quickly. "But we can't just make the reservations," she said. "We'll have to get ON the plane for it to be believable."

"Ehhhhh," Mr. Olsen said. "Not technically—but we'll make it look like you did. You'll be checked in and everything. We'll even tag some bags for you and send them through security—to be picked up by acquaintances of mine." When Chloe's smirk didn't let up, Mr. Olsen leaned on his knees and took a deep breath. "Chloe, dear, I hope this doesn't burst your opinion of me—but I haven't gotten where I am by staying in a tidy little box. I have friends who . . . let's just say, have connections—the president of a particular airline, for example—who will ensure you're checked onto that flight, whether you make a physical appearance or not." He then beamed a clever smile, so pleased with himself that he was bouncing in his over-stuffed seat.

"Sweet," was all Chloe muttered, giving the delayed nod everyone else was repeating from before.

After they'd handed over their driver's licenses for Jimmy to run off and copy, in what Clark thought must've been the 'Grand Copier Room,' Mr. Olsen asked them to fully explain their situation with Lex Luthor.

Clark gestured to Chloe so he wouldn't mess up anything she'd already invented. She turned a deep shade of pink, returning Clark's expectant glare, then started. "Okay, well . . . here's the truth."

Part 52:

Truth was a complicated thing, Lana thought—having been the victim of endless lies the past few years, from the man who she knew loved her with all the depth of his soul. And she'd had to tell a fair share of lies herself lately. All for the same purpose—to protect those whose lives would be forever altered by the truth.

She had all the confidence in the world, though, that Chloe could spin little white lies into gold. Or would she even have to lie at all?

"You see, Mr. Olsen," Chloe began. "Lex has a few problems, on different levels, really. We've all tried to help him, but there's only so much a person can do before it puts their own life at risk—and unfortunately, that's exactly what we've done."

"So, is it true that the untouchable Lex Luthor has really lost his mind?" asked Mr. Olsen. "I mean, the rumors have been circulating ever since he was rescued from that island."

Chloe nodded with a glum face, feeling genuine pity for Lex. "We all thought he'd recovered, but there was an accident a few months ago at Luthor Corp, and he's never been the same," she said. "Somehow it had a Jekyll and Hyde affect on him, only Jekyll no longer seems to be making appearances."

"Ahhh, so that's what happened," Mr. Olsen said, deep in thought. "So all we have left is the evil Mr. Hyde—thirsty for the blood of both friend and foe."

"Exactly," Clark said, wishing he didn't fit into BOTH those categories. "So, we're hoping to reverse the damage—which is going to take some serious technical know-how to recreate the accident."

"Done," Mr. Olsen said. "I'll hire any expert you need—at any price."

Jimmy cleared his throat. "Uhh . . . what kind of incident are we talking about recreating?" he asked. "As long as I have the notes from the first time around, I should be able to figure it out—and hopefully see how to reverse it."

Clark was skeptical, but Chloe raised her brows. "You know, the fewer people we get involved with this, the better," she said, then looked back to Clark whose doubt she fully anticipated. "Jimmy's good at more than just computers. He's a genius at ANYTHING scientific, trust me on this."

Clark nodded. "It's worth a try," he said. "But how do we get the notes?"

Mr. Olsen started sniggering. "Oh, if they still exist, we'll find them," he said with a final snort.

"Connections," Jimmy whispered, giving them a nod, as though the single word spoke paragraphs of information, which it did.

"And there's one more thing," Clark said. "We'll have to get into the Luthor mansion. We need to do some serious alterations of the security footage."

Chloe put her hand on Jimmy's knee, then removed it quickly. "We're, uhh," she started, trying to recover from her unplanned move on him—in front of three other people. "We'll need to stage a break-in to replace the footage that shows it was actually Clark and myself in Lex's study—busting into his vault to confirm he had the Chinese artifacts."

"You three aren't the typical small town kids, are you?" Mr. Olsen asked, quite impressed.

"Unfortunately, no," Lana answered. "We've had our fair share of adventure—enough to last a lifetime."

Clark reached over and held her hand. "And that's something I really hope will change in the future," he said, knowing the odds of that were grim. "It would be nice to settle down . . . umm . . . I mean . . . for life to settle down." By the time he caught the marriage implication, Lana's eyes had widened, and Chloe was giving him a smirk that made him want to run for cover.

But their reactions were nothing compared to Mr. Olsen's, of course. "Wait a minute there, Kent! There's no need to hide your intentions," he said, happy as a popsicle toting toddler. "You certainly weren't shy about your intentions this morning—something about a wall, if I remember . . . " he trailed off, laughing, then continued. "See, that's the problem with most men—we're more than comfortable when it comes to the physical side of our relationships, but it's what's in our heart that we have trouble communicating. Just say it, boy—tell Miss Lang that you want to—"

"Dad! Seriously, stop!" Jimmy snapped. "Whatever Clark wants to tell Lana is HIS business. It's private! It's—"

"It's all right," Clark said, trying to stop the conversation before it got out of hand. He didn't dare look at Lana, sure her face was feeling as warm as his own. "I think it's well established that I'm missing an emotional chip somewhere, but I'm working on it. I'll get there."

Get where? Lana thought, looking out the window towards a lake. She also didn't dare make eye contact with anyone, especially not Clark. Get where? She repeated to herself. Was he saying that he'd eventually get around to talking to her about marriage? Or had she completely misinterpreted that whole conversation—if it could be called that—to mean what she wanted it to mean? She hated second guessing things, and she hadn't had to do that with Clark the past few days.

After a few final arrangements to use their credit cards for their fake trip to LA—including a three day pass to Disneyland, the air cleared, and Mr. Olsen was back to his wide grins.

"All right then, I must be off. Jimmy has access to an account with limitless funds for this little escapade of yours, so have a bit of fun while you're at it," Mr. Olsen said, standing and stretching his long limbs. "Along with the food, I've brought some gadgets that will help you communicate with me, as well as one another, whenever you need to. They're connected through the most advanced satellites, so they'll work anywhere in the world. I suspect Luthor has your cell phones tapped into by now, so don't use them."

"I turned mine off when we left Metropolis last night," Chloe said, just then remembering the eerie message Lex left her.

"Of course you did," Mr. Olsen said, stepping over to Chloe and giving her a full embrace. "You're brilliant, you know. We've all got our eye on you—sure you'll be the best reporter we've ever had." He hit his head with his hand. "Oh gracious, did I forget to tell you?" Chloe was still too stunned by his compliments to answer. "You've been given our journalism scholarship to Met-U! It covers all expenses—books, housing, tuition," he said, then gave her a little nudge. "Even a date or two in the McLaren with a handsome bachelor I happen to know."

"Thank you so much, Mr. Olsen," Chloe said, finally finding her voice. "I had no idea I'd get such a perk for working for you!"

He nodded, looking over to Jimmy with pride. "Yes, he's a fine man indeed."

Jimmy laughed, giving his dad a slap on the back. "She was talking about the scholarship, Pops!"

Mr. Olsen looked to be in shock as he glanced to Chloe. "Oh, beg your pardon, I'm sorry."

"Actually, I was talking about both," she said, chancing a glance to Jimmy, whose cheeks lit up.

"My, my, that gives a whole new meaning to 'friends with benefits,'" Mr. Olsen hooted. "And we don't have bad medical insurance, either."

He waved as he said his giddy farewells, fighting off the urge—as he glanced back to Clark and Lana—to state how beautiful their children would be.

Once he'd disappeared, Jimmy exhaled and wiped his forehead. "Man, I didn't think I was going to survive that!"

Chloe put her hand on his arm. "He's an amazing guy," she said, smiling. "A little eccentric, but amazing."

"A little?" Jimmy asked. Everyone laughed, but not too much because Jimmy was embarrassed enough as it was. He and Chloe offered to go finish up in the kitchen, which left Clark and Lana sitting alone on the couch.

"Wow, that guy is really somethin'" Clark said, trying to avoid what he knew was on Lana's mind.

"Yeah."

"He, uhh, has the gift of gab, to say the least," Clark said, putting his arm around her so she'd loosen up a bit.

She melted into him, wishing that she had the courage Clark lacked at times. They could both be such chickens. "You dodged his bullets really well," she said, trying to sound lighthearted. "But I guess you've had plenty of practice with bullets, haven't you?" She knew what she said was stupid, but she didn't know what else to say.

Clark kissed the top of her head. "I've been struck by dozens of slugs, but that's nothing compared to hard hitters like Mr. Olsen."

"And having friends like Chloe and myself is probably good practice as well," Lana said, still unsure of her idle words.

There was silence as both released heavy breaths, then Clark took Lana's face in his hands and kissed her. "I love you, Lana," he said. "And I never again want you to think that anything I say or do contradicts that."

Lana was taken aback that Clark's eyes were suddenly glossy. "I won't," she said, worried. "What's the matter, Clark?"

He paused, swallowing down the knot he'd been fighting. "I have something on my mind that I need answers to," he said. "And it will probably take me most of the day to find them."

"Can I come with you?" Lana asked, afraid to hear his answer.

"Sorry, it's something I have to do on my own," he said. "But I promise to tell you every detail tonight—even if the answers don't turn out favorable for us."

"For us?" Lana asked. "Clark, I thought we were past those questions."

"Almost," he said, bringing Lana to his chest and wishing he didn't have to keep so much from her.

Part 53:

Lana was hesitant to let go of Clark, gripping onto the back of his shirt as he continued to embrace her. "Clark, whatever answers you find, I can handle it, okay?" she said. "Just don't shut me out."

"I won't," he said, kissing the soft skin of her neck. "From now on, anything that I know, you'll know. I swear."

She nodded, fighting back the burning of her eyes. Why was she so freaked out all of a sudden? It was like this inner alarm went off inside her when Clark was worried about something he was afraid to share. "Can you tell me where you're going?"

"Of course," he said, explaining where he was off to, but not disclosing his purpose—not until he had the answers, he said. "I'll take one of the phones with satellite reception that Mr. Olsen brought—so you'll be able to reach me whenever you want."

Lana gave a gentle smile, pulling back at last so he could see it. "Does the phone project tangible images so I can reach out and TOUCH you whenever I want as well?" she asked, trying to sound flirtatious.

He kissed her, several times. "No, but I want that kind of desire to build up for when I get back."

"Then you better not plan on dinner right when you return," she said. "Because food will be the last thing on my mind."

"Good," he said. "A man can't live on bread alone."

"Professor Willowbrook will see you now," said the secretary outside the professor's university office.

Clark stood from a waiting room chair, unable to shake the tension from his muscles. He stepped into Joseph Willowbrook's office and smiled instantly when he saw the great Native American leader in front of him—the man who'd provided so many interesting answers for him in the past. "Hi, Professor."

"Naman, it's so good to see you," he said. "I've been hoping you'd stop by."

"You have?" Clark asked, mulling over the possible reasons for that.

Joseph nodded, his face serious. "You're a grown man now, with a destiny to fulfill," he said. "And I've been anxious to see if you've yet decided to accept it."

Clark exhaled a deep, meaningful, breath. "I have."

Joseph took a hold of Clark's shoulders. "Then you will not only be a warrior for our people, but for the whole world," he said. "Now how can I assist you in your important work?" He gestured for Clark to sit on a small couch with him.

"It's not so much about my destiny as Naman that's worrying me today," he said. "It's more about my future as Clark Kent."

The professor looked confused, but nodded for Clark to continue.

"The first night we met, you told me about the origins of the Kawatche people," Clark said. "Would you mind going over those details with me again?"

Joseph straightened, knowing one day these questions would come. "Our legends say that five hundred years ago, a man came from the stars to do the bidding of his ancestors, and make preparations for a future descendant of his to return when we needed him most," he said, looking at Clark with a sincerity that made Clark shudder with pressure. "This man who came from the stars was distracted by his duty, so the legend says, by a young Native American woman of an Eastern tribe. The affair was forbidden by both her people, and his as well. They fled further west, residing in a cave for a length of years—which I now believe is the very one we are so familiar with—until the man was ordered to return to his home in the stars or suffer the consequences of hurting the ones he loved."

That sounded all too familiar, and Clark shook his head at the cruel means Kryptonians used to coerce their own into obedience. "Besides the woman he was with, who else was there for him to love?" Clark asked, holding his breath.

"As I've told you before, it was out of this forbidden affair that the Kawatche people were born," he said, fully expecting this to be Clark's intention for asking. "It is told that they had two children, a son and a daughter—who both became skinwalkers."

Clark closed his eyes, dropping his heavy head. "But was it because of the combination of their conflicting DNA, or because of the 'special green stones' Kyla told me were brought from the stars?" he asked, then looked up again with hope. "Because as I've already told you, the meteor rocks have had plenty of strange effects on people in Smallville."

Professor Willowbrook stood slowly, then walked to a picture and took it off the wall, revealing a safe behind it. "After our discussion about meteor rocks, I took the liberty of having one compared against the only stone that remains from our ancestors—"

"You HAVE one of the stones?" Clark asked, standing in shock. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Joseph turned around, his chin lifted. "Because you were not ready, Naman. You have not been ready to hear anything I have told you until now," he said.

"I guess it's been like casting pearls before swine," Clark said, bowing his head with humility. "I understand your hesitation, but I'm finally ready, Professor."

Joseph opened the vault door, and Clark stepped back from him, bracing for the effect of Kryptonite to take over as the professor's hand came out of the vault. But nothing happened as Joseph opened his hand, revealing a long thin crystal—it was green, but so clear he could see right through it. "What is it?" Clark asked, breathless.

"I'm not sure," Joseph answered. "But what my scientists confirmed in the comparison with the meteor rock is that though they share similar chemical properties, they are not the same."

Clark reached out for the crystal, hesitating just before touching it to see if his normal reaction to Kryptonian minerals would happen—but still nothing.

"Take it, Naman," Joseph said. "It belongs to you."

Clark at last gripped it, feeling a strange tingling overcome him, that could've been mistaken for any chill of excitement, he decided. "So, you don't believe the rocks—or it looks to me, the crystals—were what caused the skinwalker mutation in your people?"

Professor Willowbrook had told him in an earlier visit that Kyla's animalistic tendencies of attacking those who threatened her people was not unique. Such inhumane behavior had happened among the skinwalkers since their inception.

"No, I never did believe the crystals caused the metamorphosis," he said. "That was something Kyla's parents chose to tell her when they explained her ability to transform—which few of our kind have now."

Clark nodded. "I guess it's easier to tell someone they were genetically altered by a rock, then to say they're part alien."

"Both are burdens," he answered. And for the first time, Clark realized Joseph was part of his family tree—very distant, but still part Kryptonian. "But it was up to Kyla's parents to choose which burden they would have her carry," the professor continued.

"But she already knew that the Kawatche people were born from the result of the forbidden affair—"

"Yes, but she believed the man from the stars was human in all aspects, except for his unique birth place—as though there was an alternate Earth with humankind," the professor said. "That, again, is what her parents chose to teach her—to protect her from—"

"A serious complex?" Clark asked, understanding exactly why Kyla's parents withheld the truth. Sometimes he wished his own parents could've thought up a better excuse. "So, Kyla didn't realize that I was a full-blown alien—because that's definitely what I am—my DNA isn't even close to human."

Professor Willowbrook smiled, choosing not to answer the obvious—that Kyla might have felt differently about Clark if she'd known that. "I'm happy to see that you've fully embraced that part of you," he said. "And I hope that one day the woman you are destined to be with will do the same."

"She already has," Clark said with a faint smile.

He only hoped Lana would accept the consequences that came along with that. How was he ever going to find the courage to tell her what he had to?

He never wanted to repeat the tragedy of the skinwalkers.

Part 54:

After searching for Lana among the dozens of rooms, Chloe finally found her out on the balcony, leaning against the rail. "Hey, what are you doing out here?"

Lana wiped her eyes before she turned. "Just thinking," she answered. "Maybe a little too hard."

"I can see that," Chloe said, noticing the red tint of her eyes. She couldn't imagine anything between Clark and Lana making her cry—they seemed to be more than happy together. "Can you tell me about it?"

Lana gave a big smile, catching Chloe off guard. "I'll make you a deal—you tell me all about that cute guy you have in there, and then I'll admit why I'm out here blubbering."

Chloe tipped her head. "Are you kidding? You really expect me to do head-over-heels flips while you're obviously not in the mood for it?"

"Chloe, seriously," Lana said, looking her straight in the eyes. "Everything is perfectly fine with Clark and I—I'm just thinking a little too far into the future, and it's freaking me out a bit."

"You mean about marriage—because, holy cow, I couldn't believe Mr. Olsen called Clark out like that—he's probably wigging out right now . . . is that why he left?" Chloe said, without taking a breath. "Because, don't worry, he'll calm down and—"

Lana held up her hand. "No, Clark was fine with that—it's not like we haven't had some pretty serious talks the past few days," she said. "But I'm not saying another word until you dish up the good stuff about you and Jimmy."

Chloe raised her brow. "Serious talks, huh?" she asked, then waited for Lana to spill. But Lana only shook her head with her lips clamped shut. "Oh, all right—I'll tell you about Jimmy."

She checked to make sure the balcony door was shut tight, then returned to Lana, and leaned against the balcony rail with her. Chloe stayed quiet for a minute, taking a deep cleansing breath of the fresh outdoor air.

"He's amazing," she said at last, her eyes sparkling like a disco ball in the sun. "I don't even know where to begin. It's like a serious rush for me every time he opens his mouth to speak—we have the best conversations—about technology, journalism, mysteries of the universe . . . man, it's just awesome!"

"I can imagine," Lana said, knowing Chloe has really needed someone to chat with—who was on her same level of advanced human curiosity—all her life.

"And then there's times that I wish he'd just shut up and kiss me, you know?" Chloe whispered, as though Jimmy was standing with them on the balcony.

Lana had noticed Chloe's hesitancy a few times with Jimmy, which was confusing, given their history. "You mean—"

Chloe sighed. "No—he hasn't kissed me yet—not since the first summer I interned at the Daily Planet," she said. "And I know what you're thinking, Lana. But this is a REALLY strange situation for us—I mean, a few summers ago, we were just messing around, and were really stupid to do what we did. It was more like a quest of curiosity—which was . . . geez . . . " Chloe started to cry, wiping furiously at her face and trying to stop. "It's so embarrassing . . . I can't even imagine what he thinks of me."

Lana put her arm around Chloe. "Hey, he was there too. He probably feels the same way—"

"No, I'm sure he thinks I've done that with a dozen guys since him," Chloe said, having no success with trying to calm down. "I mean, why wouldn't he? At fifteen, I was like, 'Hey, that sounds like fun! Let's give it a try!' So . . . so of course he thinks I've messed around every chance I had—which I haven't, you know that."

Lana was speechless, all she could do was nod.

Chloe gave one of her 'Oh, I'm such a stupid idiot' smiles, still wiping and sniffing, then released one last heavy breath. "What should I do? Help me."

Gripping Chloe's shoulders and facing her, Lana said, "Talk to him. Tell him everything you just told me. You shouldn't let this get in your way of having a real relationship with him."

"I just didn't expect that I'd ever see him again—let alone actually start to LIKE him," Chloe said. "It's just all so messed up, we've done everything backwards, and I just wish I could fix it."

An interesting possibility entered Lana's mind. "Chlo, you said that he didn't kiss you last night—but I'm sure he had the opportunity to, right?" she asked. "I mean, you guys were together for hours."

Chloe nodded. "He had several opportunities, which makes me wonder if he really likes me at all—maybe he—"

"Oh, no . . . he's definitely whooped! When he looks at you, it's like he's drifting off on an enchanted cloud," she said. "But my point is, that maybe he's trying to start over—just like you want to. Maybe he wants to forget about what happened in the past, and pretend that you've just met. As adults this time."

Chloe smiled, her tummy doing a flip. "Do you really think so?" she asked. "Do I dare talk to him about it, or should I just leave it alone—see what happens?"

Lana shrugged. "That's completely up to you. Just do what feels right."

With one last exhale of emotion, Chloe nodded. "Too bad it took you and Clark so long to do what 'feels right'," she said. "You guys are both so good when it comes to giving advice, but you really suck when it comes to taking it."

"Yeah, you've definitely talked circles around us both," Lana said with an embarrassed smirk. "But thanks for being so supportive, it means a lot. Especially right now."

"So let's talk about 'right now,'" Chloe said. "As much as you two have to worry about, I've still never seen either of you so happy—which kind of makes me question those swollen red eyes of yours."

Lana motioned for Chloe to follow her, and they started walking along the long tiled balcony. "We both know that Clark has a long history of running from his problems," Lana said. "But he's been amazing lately—he's taken a risk by finally sharing his secret with me, he's facing his destiny head on, and he's accepted the fact that he can't save everyone—no matter how hard he tries."

When Lana paused, looking away, Chloe said, "But? There's always a 'but' when it comes to Clark Kent."

"Exactly, and this is the most difficult one I've ever had to deal with," Lana said, her eyes turning back into water spouts. "As much as I've told him to believe in my love for him, I'm so afraid . . . " she had to stop to catch her breath, " . . . I'm so afraid that he'll leave me again one day. That he'll think I can't handle the burden of him being who he is . . . of the destiny he has to fulfill. I'm scared that his love for me will cause him to give me up—to keep me safe and sheltered from whatever consequences he thinks of . . . "

Chloe would've argued, just to make Lana feel better, but she was right on target. Sometimes Clark's altruism ended up hurting more people than it helped.

Lana was sobbing now, and Chloe wrapped her arms around her. "I can't let him walk out on me again," Lana said. "Somehow, I have to make him believe that I'm strong enough to carry both of us when I have to. That I—" Lana's satellite phone rang in her pocket, and she grabbed it, stopping mid-sentence. "Clark, are you okay?"

"What's wrong?" Clark asked, hearing the stress in Lana's voice.

She cleared her throat, trying to sound normal. "Nothing, I was just, umm—"

"Worried about me?" he asked. "I'm fine. I'm just visiting with my parents, and then I'll be coming back."

Lana sighed. "Good. And no, I wasn't worried about you," she said, rolling her eyes at Chloe—confirming exactly what they'd just talked about. "You're a big boy—a pretty tough one, at that."

"Nahhhhhhh . . . I'm not really that tough," Clark said, trying to sound humble. "Yeah, okay, I guess I can flex for you when I get there . . . oh, is that what you were thinking about when I called? Because you don't have to resort to begging."

Lana laughed. "Oh yes please, Clark, just ONE more peek of you shirtless, and I promise I'll stop asking . . ."

Chloe shook her head with a crooked smile, then walked away. "Sheesh, you guys even need a room when you're thousands of miles apart!" she mumbled. "Remind me to get you a phone booth for a wedding gift."

Part 55:

Knowing Clark would be a while longer, Lana couldn't resist the opportunity to take a nap. She tossed and turned for a time, laughing at herself for being so eager to return to her own personal historical novel.

Each enjoyable vision she had, however, also brought conflicting emotions. She loved watching the romance play out between Isobel and Kal-El—and Marguerite was starting to feel like she was Lana's own child, but when she awoke, the bliss was always followed by a sense of lingering dread—knowing of the darkness that was sure to come.

At last, when Lana took slow, rhythmic breaths, she drifted off—back into the scene she'd left so reluctantly.

Kal-El and Isobel were not shy as they continued to kiss in the hallway the entire length of Marguerite's nap. Being with Kal-El was like quenching a desperate thirst after traveling through an emotionless desert. What was it about him that filled Isobel's soul so completely?

Marguerite called for her mother, and Kal-El stepped back and looked at Isobel as though she'd just given him a dose of poison—something he'd never recover from. He then smiled. "Please tell me we can do that again."

Isobel laughed, loving the way his hungry eyes rested on her, then gave him one more lingering kiss. "I wouldn't let you leave if you tried."

"You definitely won't have to worry about that," Kal-El said, trying to steady himself against the wall as he watched her walk away toward Marguerite's room. His eyes felt like bonfires—his entire body did. He was relieved that he could control his heat vision this time, otherwise the whole manor would've gone up in smoke.

Marguerite came toddling down the hall, followed by a beaming Isobel. When Isobel approached Kal-El, she hesitated for only a moment—pleased that he was still immobile. She wondered how her own legs were able to move, weak as they were.

Isobel grabbed his hand and tugged him along toward the kitchen. "You hungry?" she asked.

"Are you joking?" he asked, pulling her back into his arms and caressing her neck. "It's doubtful I'll ever think of food again."

She enjoyed his kisses as long as she dared—remembering where Marguerite wandered off to the last time she took her eyes off her. "Are you saying that men can live purely on love where you come from?"

"I'm not sure," he said, running his hands down her back. "But I'm willing to test the possibility."

Isobel shuddered, certain that the next few hours until her daughter went back to sleep would be the longest of her life. But at the same time, she was afraid of what she'd do when that time came. _Goodness, woman, you've just met him . . . oh, who cares? He's lit a fire in me that will not be quenched_.

If she'd known this day was going to go as it had, she'd have at least pressed her dress. But with Kal-El's strong hands all over it anyway, what did it matter? She laughed when she pictured them in the hallway again . . . hardly able to wait for the moment that they could return.

"What are you giggling about?" Kal-El asked, but had to stop his teasing when they reached the kitchen to find Marguerite playing with a knitting needle.

"My goodness," Isobel said, taking it away from her. "You've found more dangerous adventure in this single day than you have in all your life." She turned to face Kal-El again—to answer his question. "And that's precisely what I was telling myself when I laughed a moment ago."

He sat in a kitchen chair, stretching out his long legs that Isobel couldn't help but drool over. "Which part? That I'm dangerous or full of adventure?"

Isobel's eyes met his, feeling a surge of desire burn even hotter through her. "Definitely both."

As a surprise to each of them, they managed to prepare supper together without losing track of the busy toddler even once. As Isobel set the table, Kal-El tossed a ball back and forth with Marguerite.

"Alright, toss it hard this time, I'll get it," Kal-El said to Marguerite. She chucked it as hard as she could—completely out of his reach. He darted across the room but didn't reach it in time, then groaned his disappointment. "Oh, missed again!" he said.

Marguerite went into delighted giggles every time he replayed his disappointment of missing her throw. At last becoming determined to help the terribly uncoordinated _big man_, Marguerite stepped right up to Kal-El and said, "I help you."

Kal-El was so lost in the sweetness of this child that he wasn't prepared when she threw the ball straight at his face. It bounced off his forehead and Marguerite hollered out laughter. And she was not the only one—Isobel had a hard time catching her breath as Kal-El rubbed his forehead with a fake pout on his face.

He leaned over to Marguerite's level and smiled at her. "You are so very strong," he said.

Marguerite touched his forehead, looking worried. "Owwie," she said. "Sorry, big man."

Kal-El picked her up and put her on his knee. "It's quite all right," he said. "Big man has a pretty tough head."

"Mama, big man has pretty head," Marguerite said, putting her hands on Kal-El's cheeks.

"Why yes he does," Isobel said, laughing at her daughter's misunderstanding—yet having to agree that she was quite perceptive for such a young lady. "You have good taste in men already, little Margie."

When they were at last sitting to eat, Kal-El asked Isobel. "Where does your family live?"

Normally this was a question Isobel avoided with everyone else—acting as though she no longer had living relatives. "Not too terribly far from here," she said. "But they don't know where I am. I haven't spoken to them since I left Paris, when they unexpectedly appeared at my door bearing 'gifts' for my newborn daughter."

"And that wasn't such a good idea, I gather," Kal-El said, noticing Isobel's shiver.

She scrunched up her nose and shook her head, then glanced to Marguerite—who was smearing mashed potatoes all over the table.

"Oh, what a pretty picture, darling," Isobel said with an amused smile, then raised her brows to Kal-El. "I believe she'll be a famous artist one day—she has quite a talent, don't you think?"

He leaned across the table to get a better look. "Is that a flower?" Kal-El asked.

Marguerite laughed, then looked between him and her mashed potato drawing, finally pointing at Kal-El. "Papa!" she said, which sent Isobel's heart straight to her toes.

Lana woke to a sensation of the back of a hand moving across her cheek. When she opened her eyes, she discovered Clark hovering only inches above her.

She grabbed him, raising up to give him a kiss. "Get down here!" she said, laughing.

"Gladly," Clark answered, gently dropping to finish what she'd started. "You looked pretty happy while you were sleeping. What happened this time?"

Lana ran her fingers through Clark's hair as she felt his warmth all around her. "Marguerite drew a picture of Kal-El with mashed potatoes," she said, making Clark laugh. "And then . . . " Lana paused to swallow, feeling Isobel's reaction all over again, "she called him 'papa'."

Clark's smile faded, chills spilling over him. "Wow," he said, trying to make the corners of his mouth return to where they were. "It's like they're already a family."

Lana released the breath she'd been holding, then kissed Clark on the cheek. "I missed you," she said. "Let's not talk about your day until you're ready."

She had no idea how much he wished he could take her up on that offer. "Let's go down by the lake," he whispered in her ear. "I won't be any less nervous to talk to you about it tomorrow. And you deserve to know."

Once they'd reached the lake—the orange glow of the setting sun reflecting off its smooth surface, Clark stopped and faced Lana—holding both her hands. He wasn't sure where to start.

"Lana, I know we've talked about a lot of things, and you haven't been scared off by any of it yet," he said. "But I can't expect you to keep going along with this without knowing exactly what you're committing yourself to."

She gripped his hands, trying to stop her own from trembling. "Clark, I'm not 'going along' with anything," she said, feeling like they'd had this conversation before. Why couldn't he have more faith in her? "And nothing you tell me can change my mind about being with you, nor my heart from loving you. So please, please, stop torturing yourself over what our future may be like."

Clark didn't think he could bear the weight of his body as he stood there. "Let's sit down, okay?"

They lowered to the long grass, and Lana snuggled into him, much as she'd done when they had their one and only picnic together two long years ago. She wasn't going to allow his emotional wall to come up, and she tipped her head to kiss him so he'd be well aware of her determination—no matter what he had to tell her.

Clark waited for well over a minute before he had the courage to speak. Then he finally looked at her with glossy eyes, and said, "Lana, I've never wanted anything more in my life than to marry you. The thought of you being my wife . . . " he paused, losing his voice when he saw a tear roll down her cheek, " . . . it's the most fulfilling dream I could ever imagine. But—"

Lana knew the 'but' was coming and gripped onto him.

He swallowed. "But we can't ever have children together . . . and I don't want to hold you back from your desire to have a family."

Part 56:

Clark's words echoed through Lana's entire body, then she fell into the grass—flat on her back.

Clark didn't dare join her, watching the tears trickle down her cheeks was too much for him, and he turned back toward the lake, his chest and head burning. "I should've told you that when we first spoke about my abilities in your apartment—I'm so sorry, Lana . . . it wasn't fair for me to—"

Lana gripped the back of his shirt and yanked him down to the grass with her. Startled, he found her with a half-smile, but she was still crying.

"You scared me so bad, Clark," she said, touching his face, then tracing his lips with her thumb. "I thought you were going to say you had to give me up for the sake of the world, or something stupid like that . . . If there comes a time that you feel you need to let go for my own safety—let ME make that decision, okay?" She released one last sob, then wiped her eyes. "Don't ever do that to me again."

Even with her reprimand, he found it hard not to relax, feeling the warmth of her hand on his skin. "Why do I get the feeling that you didn't hear a single word I just said?"

"Because I've heard you say those very words dozens of times in my head since we spoke about your origin," she said, scooting over to be right against him. "So what you just told me isn't anything I didn't already know. Of course I'm disappointed, but—"

He put his hand on her face, then moved it down her shoulder and arm. "But what you probably think is that it would be impossible because we're genetically so different," he said, feeling this was what would sting her the most, "but that's not the case. It's possible for us to have children, it's just that . . . " He went on to tell her of his conversation with Professor Willowbrook.

That definitely shook Lana for a moment—that Clark and she COULD have children—so she didn't understand exactly where he was going with his explanation. "So, you're afraid that if we have a baby, that it will be a skinwalker—because I know what Kyla did was wrong, but she wasn't a horrible person," Lana said, her heart speeding up a bit in hope. "Maybe a daughter of our own could learn to better control her abilities—just as you have."

Clark gave a slow shake of his head, expecting this to be her reaction. "No, Lana. I don't know what a child of ours would turn out to be," he said. "Jor-El doesn't either. He suspects the first two skinwalkers, whose blood was half Kryptonian, mutated into animal like creatures because they adapted to their habitat in the wilderness. Basically, their ability was dictated by a need to survive as a new species."

A new SPECIES? Lana blinked hard, taking in the significance of that. "In other words, our children could adapt to their own environment as well? Taking on whatever ability they felt they needed to survive?"

"It's possible," Clark answered, running out of words.

They remained staring at one another for several moments, taking in the potential implications. "I'm not sure I'd dare send our daughter to Jr. High," Lana said, trying to sound airy, but being serious about it. "It's amazing what a girl has to do to 'survive' during those particular years."

Clark swallowed, having already considered things like that on his way back from the Fortress today. "Lana, you read my journal entries from when I was young," he said. "There were times at school, or in sports, that I didn't care who discovered my secret—I wanted to teach them a lesson, so they wouldn't bother me again."

"But you didn't, Clark," she said, touching his chest and feeling his strong heartbeat. "Because you had parents who instilled such goodness in you that you had the strength to resist. We can do that! I know we can."

There was no way Clark was going to say 'but' again. So he just stayed quiet, his eyes welling up once more.

Lana laid her head on his chest, trying to connect with his soul—trying to discern the words she knew he was holding back. Finally, she felt she understood the roots of his pain.

"You don't want to take that chance, do you?" She looked up to see the emotional confirmation on his face. "You aren't concerned about how hard it would be to raise a child like that, but how hard it would be for them to be one."

Clark nodded, still unable to speak, his throat burning.

"You're full-blooded Kryptonian—so that's why you feel you've been able to gain control of your abilities," she said, explaining it more to herself. "But if my blood—witch blood, no less—were to mix with yours—"

"Who knows what would happen?" he said, knowing it was his turn to have the strength to finish the sentence. "But still, even if you didn't have an ability of your own, Jor-El said that, biologically, a child I had with any woman could be born without a conscience, or not have the ability to turn off his or her powers . . . or anything."

Lana nodded, resting on her back in the grass again. Clark propped up on his elbow and looked down at her, just staring her until the right words came . . . "I'd give anything to have a daughter that looked just like you," he said, his voice catching again. "Your beautiful hazel eyes, your long dark hair, your sweet face that makes me melt at the sight of it."

She completely lost it then, thinking of a miniature version of Clark toddling around their house . . . how often she'd dreamed of that. Lana sat up and they held on to one another for several minutes.

"Clark," she said at last, her arms still around him. "Millions of people in this world can't have children together, but it doesn't stop them from marrying and raising a family."

He couldn't help but allow his lips to part into a smile. "That's exactly what my parents told me today," he said. "But that wasn't their choice—this is a choice we'd actually have to make—a choice to prevent having children together."

She took his face in her hands, and with a stern expression said, "I know that, but we'll make that decision when we have to. Right now, I just want you to know that I will still consider myself just as much of a mother if I adopt children. And that I know we'll feel just as complete as a family, as one who shares the very same gene pool."

Clark's smile was huge now. "The Kents are definitely proof that having the same flesh and blood doesn't dictate if you're a family," he said, also thinking of an opposite example. Lex and Lionel were anything but a family—even when Lex's mother was still alive.

Clark paused, exhaling a deep cleansing breath. "So you won't be disappointed if we can't have little superbabies?"

Her smile matched the size of his own. "Whether or not we can have our own biological children, they won't be any less super if they have you for a dad," Lana said, giving Clark the most passion-filled kiss she ever had.

What mattered most to her, was not only would she be a mother, but that Clark would be there to tuck her children into bed.

Part 57:

After speaking about their future for another hour, they spotted Chloe and Jimmy out on the balcony, heating up the barbeque grill.

"I bet you're hungry. You've made quite a journey today," Lana said to Clark as they remained in the tall grass by the lake.

"Oh, I forgot to tell you—I didn't have to fly," he said. "I was able to go through the cave wall like my parents did."

Lana felt a thrill of excitement for a moment—thinking she'd be able to join him next time. But then her face fell when she remembered Jor-El's conditions. "So, is the Fortress still a no 'fly' zone for me?"

Clark dropped his head. "For now, at least," he said. "But I asked Jor-El about it, and he didn't act like it would always be that way."

What exactly were the conditions of her 'protectorship,' Lana wondered. "You know, Clark, growing up in a small town in Kansas, you would've thought we'd both have had pretty normal, uncomplicated lives," she said. "Who would've ever guessed?"

"Guessed what?" Clark asked with a smirk. "That I'd be in charge of ridding the planet of corruption, and you'd be the one to make it possible?"

"Yeah, something like that," she laughed, surprised at herself for being able to joke about it. "I think our senior class forgot about the, 'Most Likely to Save the World' category."

He smiled, looking back to the balcony where the other two were now putting big slabs of ribs on the grill. "Well, if anyone would've been a shoo-in for it, it would've been Chloe," Clark said. "She's definitely the best friend we could ever hope for right now."

"Or ever," Lana said. "I know our relationship has been hard for her over the years, but I can really feel that she's happy for us now. I just hope she'll find that same happiness for herself one day."

Clark gave a confident nod. "She will," he said. "Jimmy seems like a cool guy, someone she deserves. Let's just hope he deserves her."

"I'm not sure that anyone deserves Chloe," Lana said. "I've wondered dozens of times why she continues to put up with me. I haven't been there for her as much as I would've liked to."

"I haven't been as good of a friend as I needed to be either," Clark said. "But—"

Lana laughed. "What? This time it will be different?"

Clark gave a mock look of anguish. "Hey, that was the most romantic line I ever came up with! Don't knock it!"

She kissed him softly on the cheek. "And believe me, it was received as such," she said. "But can I just add one little thing?"

"What?" Clark asked, waiting for the punch line.

"'This time' I want to be possessed by a fairy godmother," Lana said. "Rather than Isobel."

"Oh yeah?" Clark asked, kissing her neck. "Well, I'd rather be from Saturn—it's always been my favorite planet. But noooooooo, I had to get stuck with a place I can't even brag about."

Lana took him down to the grass, smothering him with her own variety of compassion. "Oh, you poor little guy," she said. "Tell me ALL about it . . . I always thought you were a bit spaced-out."

He laughed. "Bad puns don't help my complex any," he said. "But while we're at it, you've always been a bit—"

"Of a witch, I know," Lana said, pinning him down.

"No," Clark said with a gentle smile. "Just very magical."

"So, here's what I discovered this afternoon," Jimmy said, once they were all eating on the balcony. "Lex's security system can't be hacked from outside his mansion. We'll need to get in there just like you thought."

Clark nodded. "Thanks for trying anyway," he said. "Any ideas of how were going to manipulate it once we've got access?"

"Chloe's already figured that out," Jimmy said, glancing to her with a proud smile. "But we're going to need some help. We'll need to hire some, well . . . body doubles for you guys."

"Except for me, I'll be doing my own stunt work," Chloe said.

Lana looked at her in shock. "What are you talking about Chloe?" she asked. "There's no way we'll let you risk getting hurt."

"Not that kind of stunt work," Chloe said, rolling her eyes with a smile. "You'll just have to wait and see."

Jimmy was grinning too. "Trust me, it will be cool," he said. "But what we're going to need to do first is get a copy of the original surveillance. I'll go back to Metropolis in the morning to get the equipment we need."

Both Clark and Lana stopped breathing, glancing at Chloe and hoping she had a way to keep Jimmy from seeing what actually happened.

Chloe gave a quick wink, then sighed. How thick did they think she was? Of course she had a plan, she always did.

"You three know the Luthor mansion, so you'll have to figure out a way to get in there without being caught," Jimmy continued.

"No problem," Clark said with a tinge of arrogance. "I'll just need you to show me how to work the recording equipment."

"No problem?" Jimmy asked, surprised by Clark's surety. "If it wasn't a problem to get in and out without being seen, how'd you guys get yourselves into this mess in the first place?"

Clark realized his mistake, and decided to chow down on the humble pie he'd just been served. "You're right, it was stupid," he said. "But I didn't know that Lex had just installed new cameras in his study. He'd only had them on the outside of the mansion before then—and well, I have my own ways to get past those. And I'll figure out how to get around his new ones as well."

"Good," Jimmy said, grinning again. "You don't really seem like the breaking and entering type to me, but I guess Lex has forced your hand at times."

"Sadly, yes," Chloe said. "As much as we've tried to avoid it, we've all become paltry pawns on the Lex Luthor chessboard."

When they were finished eating, Jimmy offered to give everyone a tour of the grounds.

"Why don't you take Chloe on a private tour this time," Clark suggested. "Lana and I will clean up."

"Are you sure?" Chloe asked, trying to temper her excitement.

"Of course," Lana said, gathering dishes off the patio table. "It's our turn. You two cleaned up after breakfast."

Jimmy took Chloe's hand, which made her beam, then the two of them made there way down the balcony steps and onto the lush grounds.

Clark started helping Lana out with cleaning up the table, but only until Jimmy and Chloe were out of sight—then he went into super-speed mode, making the dishes disappear right out of Lana's hands before she even realized what was going on. Moments later, he was back, drying his hands with a dish towel.

"Your mother must REALLY love having you around," Lana said, shaking her head in amazement. "She's going to truly resent me when I steal you away."

He put his arms around her, kissing her forehead. "The good thing about being so fast, is that I have time to help both of you," he said. "But I have a sneaky suspicion that when I come home at night, dishes will be the last thing on my mind."

"Then I'll have to get them done before then," Lana said, looking up to him. "I wouldn't want to distract you from your most important duties."

"Like yard work?" Clark asked with a smile.

"Among other things," she answered.

They would've continued to play 'house' for hours, but Clark had something even better in mind. "Stay right here," he said, speeding off and returning with his backpack. "Guess what I picked up on the way back from the cave today?"

Lana smiled and unzipped the backpack. She looked in to find it stuffed with the notes she'd written him, along with his journal.

Part 58:

"Oh no," Lana said, thinking of the remaining notes Clark still had to read. "Can I, uhh, just read your journal, and write you some new love letters in place of the ones here?"

Clark thought about that for a moment. "No way, you can't replace these—they're priceless," he said. "But new love letters would be great too—I'll look forward to those."

"That's not what I meant," Lana said, rolling her eyes with a smile. She wished she could hurry and sort through them to take out the worst ones. "Just don't get all flustered when you see some of the stuff I wrote. It was a long time ago."

"I know," Clark said. "Sometimes it's nice to be reminded of how far we've come."

Lana gave him a gentle kiss. "True."

They settled next to one another in lounge chairs on the balcony, then dug into the backpack for their desired treasures. At the very bottom was an envelope which was addressed to Lana's Paris apartment—stamped and everything.

Clark took it out, and handed it to Lana. "Special delivery," Clark said, swallowing as he recalled the emotions he felt when he wrote it. "Better late than never, I guess."

Lana noticed the stamps and looked up in shock. "Why didn't you send this?"

"I did. Well, at least it was in my mailbox waiting for the postman," he said. "But that was the day you showed up in my driveway—with Lois' machine gun mouth that couldn't wait to tell me about your summer fling."

All of Lana's blood rushed to her feet. "Clark, I can't tell you how sick that made me," she said. "It still makes me feel horrible."

"Hey," he said, taking her hand. "We're not reading this stuff to drudge up bad memories. It's just for fun, and . . . well, I want to understand ALL of you, not just the Lana I know today. And I also want you to read this letter I wrote so you'll truly know what I was thinking when you were in Paris."

She smiled at last. "Yeah, that will be nice. It wasn't easy going the whole summer without a single letter or phone call from you." Suddenly, her expression fell and she realized what she'd said. "Clark, if I'd known you left Smallville against your will, I would've come right home to look for you. But . . . well, there's a letter somewhere in here that explains it, I'm sure you'll come across it." It was one that she hoped he'd never have the chance to read, but it was just as well that she got it over with.

"Will you find it for me?" Clark asked, having always been curious to know how she moved on to Jason so quickly. He knew it would be painful, but he'd never stop wondering if he didn't find out, and he'd already decided that he would never put Lana through the anguish of personally explaining it to him.

Lana gave a reluctant nod, and searched among the dozens of love letters to find it. It was one of the few that were folded like a real letter, so it wasn't hard to spot. "Here," she said. "This is probably important for you to know. I just hope you can forgive me."

He took hold of her face and kissed her. "Lana, there's nothing to forgive," he said. "I had my chance with you—several of them, but I gave you up. I didn't expect you to ever be mine again, and by some divine miracle, here you are. That's all that matters to me."

"But still—" she started, cut off by Clark's returning lips.

"Let's just read the letters, okay?" he said. "Then we'll talk."

She nodded and slit open the envelope he'd handed her, starting to read. He opened his own tri-folded letter and did the same:

Dear Clark,

I promised myself I wouldn't be the first to write or call, but it's four weeks into my stay, and I haven't heard a word from you. I don't even know if I'll send this, but I know I have to write it. I need to talk to someone so badly. Two days ago, I received a letter from Lex telling me what happened to Chloe and her dad. I haven't stopped shaking since. You know how much I loved Chloe! I can't imagine going on without her. Of course, I immediately picked up the phone and called to talk to you about it, but I've left messages for two days straight now, and you haven't returned my call. An hour ago, when I finally called Lex, I found out why.

Lex said you've left Smallville again and that your father is in a coma. He told me your mother is a complete mess and that no one had a clue as to where you've run off to this time. As I write this, I can't even tell you how hard I'm crying. How could you do this to your parents again? I know you have a lot of things you need to work through, but running away compounds not only your problems, but everyone else's as well. I thought you already learned that lesson.

None of this makes sense to me. You don't make sense to me! I've tried to explain things to myself a thousand times, but it's just no use. The fact is that you live a double life, and you haven't allowed me to be a part of either of them. It's sad how much time I've spent on websites trying to find an emotional category you fit into, but to no avail. Nothing about you is consistent. If I could tap into your heart for even one moment, enough for you to open up to me about this secret you harbor, I'd do anything I could to not only help you, but be by your side—in the relationship I've always wanted us to have.

It's not difficult to see that I've been begging you for the last year just to love me. To allow me to love you. Dammit, Clark. I would've done anything for that. And I did do it—to the point of acting desperate for any attention at all from you. I made up half the excuses I used to come see you. Like I said . . . desperate. And I'm tired of being that kind of girl, that's why I came to Paris. From the very moment I stepped in that airport though, I knew I'd come running back the first moment I heard your voice, or read a letter from you. But after all this waiting, I'm done being that desperate.

The Clark Kent I thought I knew all these years wouldn't want me to spend one more night crying myself to sleep. The Clark Kent I once had as a friend—who was there whenever I needed him, and didn't run away for months at a time, with no regard for anyone else—he's the guy that would've told me to go on with my life . . . to forget about someone who can never love me as much as I love him. So, I'm taking my best friend, Clark Kent's advice . . . I'm moving on.

If you're reading this, I hope that means you've come back to your parents. Somewhere, there's a true hero inside you, Clark. I've seen it so many times, I've lost count. As much as I wish you could be mine, I've come to face the fact that I've never been the girl you want. I hope when you find whatever you're looking for in life, you'll be both the son and friend we all know you can be. And I wish I could be there to see it, but the process of waiting for you to see that hero inside yourself has become much too painful.

That's where the letter ended, the word 'painful' trailing off crookedly. Clark's hands were shaking by the time he finished reading and he didn't dare look at Lana, knowing his eyes had to be bright red from the emotion he was holding back. His first response was to ask how the hell she could ever believe that stuff. But then, he remembered that all the evidence she had to that point led to exactly what she wrote in that letter.

How was she to know he was sucked into a wall by his dead alien father? No . . . he couldn't find it in him to resent her for her false accusations, and he had to tell her that . . . as soon as he could speak.

He heard a muffled sob, and turned to see that Lana had been reading the letter along with him, crying. "I couldn't finish writing it," she said, wiping her face. "I don't know why I even kept it. I was in such a state of rage that every bit of pain and anger I'd ever penned up came pouring out on those pages."

It was several moments before Clark could reply. He knew it would make it worse if he said what he was thinking—that he didn't blame her for falling for Jason—a guy who seemed to give her all that she'd wanted from Clark. She deserved to be loved, and he was glad Lana finally realized that in Paris—no matter how hard it was for him to accept that he wasn't the guy to teach her that.

Then again, in the end, neither was Jason.

"Lana, I really needed to read that," he said. "I needed to know that you didn't just get over me at the first sight of Jason."

"I wrote that three weeks after I met him," she said. "I was very much still in love with you, and he knew it. He used to call you the 'ghost without a name.' But after I wrote that letter, something snapped inside of me. I forced myself to try to forget about you—about everyone in Smallville. It was the only way I could deal with the pain of losing both you and Chloe. For a while, I felt bad that Jason was more of a crutch than anything else, but then I finally decided to stop seeing him as a rebound and convince myself that he could be the 'Clark' I wanted so desperately to be with."

For some reason, Clark felt a warm sense of release wash over him, and he actually smiled. "Lana, this is the last time I ever want you to feel a need to explain your relationship with Jason," he said. "From now on, Jason Teague is only a shotgun-toting, stone-stealing, backstabbing, former coach to me."

To Clark's relief, she smiled too. "Don't forget about the lying, murdering, mama's boy side of him," she said. "Those are the only memories I have left."

Clark raised his brows. "At least he makes ME look good . . . real good," he said, thinking that if Jason was still around, he might have actually thanked him.

Part 59:

"No, you don't need any help looking better than every other guy on the planet," Lana said, leaning over and giving him a peck. "Now, go ahead and have free reign on those love letters of mine—since you already found the worst of them, and I'm going to enjoy reading this mysterious letter that was on its way to Paris."

Clark nodded, sorting through the pile of letters and trying to find one that looked to be a bit older. Lana unfolded the letter Clark had in his mailbox when she showed up in his driveway the end of last summer.

Dear Lana,

I'd start out by saying how much I miss you, but I'm afraid you wouldn't believe it unless I explained a few things first. I'm so sorry about the airport. As usual, it's hard to give you an excuse other than it turned out to be really bad timing. I got to the airport just as Lex was there with you and I couldn't find the strength to go over and explain myself. Lex and I weren't exactly on the best of terms then—still aren't. So please don't believe anything he tells you right now. Just before I was supposed to take you to the airport, I found a room in Lex's mansion that puts Chloe's fascination with meteor freaks to shame. Only this room was focused only on my family—particularly on me. Make of that what you will, but I was more than a little angry about it. And I can't tell you how sorry I am that you were caught in the crossfire.

I'm sure you're upset, well at least I hope you still care enough to be, that I haven't contacted you since you left. This is what I'll have a really hard time finding the words for, because all I can say is that it wasn't by choice. You know there are things about me that I've had to keep from you. Well, I was going to tell you everything to get you to stay with me in Smallville, but Pete just had to make the opposite decision when my secret became too dangerous for him to know. It was just too much for me to take at that time, so I changed my mind about telling you. Besides it would've been completely selfish of me to expect you to stay just because I finally had the guts to come clean.

But I've regained that courage, Lana, and I'm willing to tell you anything you want to know—whether or not you decide to ever take me back. My parents have given me permission to go to Paris. I tried to call you, but I must've written your phone number down wrong, because the one I have has been disconnected. So here I am, writing a letter and waiting in complete agony while it travels half-way across the world before it finds you. Please call me as soon as you read this.

Lana, I won't come to beg you back home, that wouldn't be fair to you. But I want the chance to tell you in person how much I still love you. How I can't imagine spending the rest of my life without you. And I want to explain every lie I've ever told you, and why I've had to push you away for so long.

I do love you, Lana. I've loved you since the first moment we met. And I've finally realized that keeping secrets from you is hurting us both too much. Please forgive me. And even though I don't deserve it, please give me the chance to see you in Paris.

Love,

Clark

When Lana was finished reading she had her hand on her heart, and was smiling through tears. "You were going to come to Paris?" she asked, turning to see that Clark was already looking at her.

"Of course I was," he said, taking the hand off her heart and kissing it. "And if I'd still been in Smallville, it only would've taken a few hours after you left to realize the mistake I made."

"Well, that would've been only a few hours after I'd already realized my own mistake," she said. "I should've followed my instincts and stayed in Smallville, but . . . "

"I know, Lana," he said. "It's over. That whole chapter in our life is officially over." He held up the one note he'd read while she was involved with her letter. "But this . . . this is something very interesting I think we should discuss."

Lana ripped the note from his hand. "Oh, brother! Not another Jr. High one," she said, feeling her cheeks flush before she even read the content. "Why haven't I burned these?"

"This has gotta be one of my favorites," he said, stealing it back by using super-speed.

"Cheater," she said. "No powers allowed unless it's necessary."

"Spilling dessert trays on innocent hostesses is necessary?" Clark asked with a smirk.

"I'm your protector, after all," she said. "And she knew about your alter-ego."

"And now she rightly knows about yours," he said, then looked down to a strange sensation tickling his chest. Lana was unbuttoning his shirt without even touching him—exposing three-quarters of his chest and abs.

"Much better," she said, brushing her hands like a job well done.

"You're naughty," Clark said, thinking her powers were ten times cooler than his. "But don't forget I have x-ray vision."

She moved over and sat on his lap in the lounge chair, running her fingers up his bare chest. "If you use it now, it might take all the fun out of our honeymoon," she said with a sexy pout.

Clark's face burst into a smile. "I doubt it." He closed his eyes as she met his lips, then felt Lana's hand sliding down his arm to take the note back. He tossed it beneath the lounge chair, then hurried and grabbed it with his other hand. "No way. I've already read it anyway, I just want you to read it now."

Lana sat up, defeated in her sneaky quest. But it was fun anyway. "Why?" she asked.

"You'll see," he said, finally trusting her with the note.

She opened it and read:

Clark,

Why were you acting so weird tonight? It's one in the morning and I just got back from Pete's party, but I can't go to sleep because I'm so embarrassed about what I did. When we were at the Smallville pool, you were so cute when we were playing around in the water, so I thought you were finally starting to like me too. But after we got back to Pete's, and our names were picked for the closet, you totally freaked out when we got in there. All I did was try to hold your hand, and you backed up against the opposite wall like you were sick, then ran from the closet. I've never felt so stupid in my life! Do you have a secret girlfriend or something?

Lana

Reading the note out loud actually put Lana in hysterical giggles. "No, you stupid girl!" she said to herself. "He does have a secret, but not a girlfriend. And you're wearing poison around your neck!"

Clark was laughing too. "Told you it was a good one," he said. "So you figured the necklace thing out too, huh? You weren't wearing it when we went swimming, but when we went back to Pete's, you put it on again. Do you want to read my side of the story?"

"Of course," she said, reaching for his journal on her former lounge chair.

Clark took it and found the right page, reading to her:

Today was one of the best days ever—until tonight. It was Pete's 13th birthday party and his mom paid for everyone to go to the Smallville pool. Lana doesn't usually hang out with us, but Pete said he'd invite her for me anyway. I didn't think she'd come, but she did. Since she didn't know many people, and Chloe was being a total you know what to her, me and Lana ended up playing around in the pool together. It was like everything I'd ever dreamed of. It was the first time since we were kids that we could talk a lot (she was totally flirting with me I think) without me getting so sick I couldn't stand up. What's wrong with me anyway? Everything was perfect until we went back to Pete's for pizza and to play games. Well, knowing Pete's twisted mind, things got a little crazy and he wanted to play a game where a girl and guy had to stay in a dark closet together for five minutes. Of course he knew who I wanted to go in there with, so when he went to get some paper to write down names so he could pick them out of a bowl, I slipped him five bucks and he promised to rig the drawing for me. We totally got away with it, but when I got in the closet with Lana, I started feeling that same pain, like my freaking muscles were all seizing up! I backed against the wall so she wouldn't notice how sick I was, but she stepped closer and actually tried to hold my hand, I think. But I couldn't handle the pain any longer, so I burst out of the closet and everyone started laughing. It was so bad, and I bet Lana will never talk to me again. My life sucks.

Clark was pretending to sulk when he finished reading, and Lana said. "That is the saddest thing I've ever heard! You poor, poor guy! You paid a whole five bucks for some action—"

He cut over her. "And all you did was hold my hand!"

"Ahhhh," she said, stuffing the notes and journal into his backpack. "What a rip off."

"Yeah, I know," he said, dropping his chin—then Lana stood, and tugged him by the hand. "Where we going?"

"You'll see," she said, opening the balcony door and leading him along.

Clark had a pleasant thought come to mind. "Am I finally gonna get my five dollars worth?"

"Plus compounding interest," answered Lana, looking over her shoulder with a devilish smile. "It has been over five years, after all."

"Remind me to invest more often!" Clark said, picking up the pace.

Lana opened the first closet they came to, and pushed him inside. "I'm totally necklace free, but you better brace yourself anyway."

Part 60:

Thirty minutes later, Clark's iron clad body couldn't have held up a cream puff. But it was trying . . . Clark was having too much fun to fall unconscious. When Lana suddenly stopped her attack, he reached into his back pocket. "Hey, what are you doing? I have another five bucks!"

She laughed—her limited breath barely managing it. "I think someone's coming, we better relocate."

Clark returned to her neck, talking as he caressed her. "I don't think Chloe & Jimmy are to the closet stage yet. They won't find us."

That was true. What were the chances of them opening the closet? And besides, hiding like this made it all the more enjoyable. "So what did you expect from me when we were in the closet at Pete's?" she whispered in his ear.

"Definitely not this, but I'm not complaining," he whispered back, as the outside voices were coming closer. "You've made it well worth the wait."

Lana moved her hands across Clark's bare abs. "Well, you've changed a bit since Jr. High, haven't you?" she said, moving her hands along his waist, then trailing her fingernails up his back.

Clark's knees bent. "I can NOT stay quiet if you keep that up," he said, sparks shooting through him. "But please don't stop on my account." A few moments later, and he would've been down on the floor from lack of strength, but it wasn't possible. "Let's remember to have bigger closets in our home—some things shouldn't be limited by space."

Lana couldn't help but respond to that—despite how close Chloe's voice now was. "I've always thought we could live in the loft," she said.

"Nah, we definitely need walls and doors . . . " Clark whispered, " . . . that lock."

At once, they both stopped and Clark tried to find his shirt on the floor. It was clear that Chloe and Jimmy were right outside the closet, and that their voices were no longer traveling. They had to have been sitting on the couch, mere feet away.

Lana helped Clark slip back into his sleeves, and started buttoning his shirt—which she sincerely lamented. She wrapped her arms around him and leaned on his chest, waiting until the coast was clear for them to go elsewhere.

"You look so gorgeous tonight, Chloe," Jimmy said. "But of course you always do."

There was a momentary pause, and then one of Chloe's laughs that always said she was stumped. "Okay, what am I supposed to say to that?"

"You're not supposed to say anything—just sit there and keep looking pretty," he answered. "I never imaged that I'd meet a girl like you. So interesting and involved in the world, yet so . . . so hot. I mean, how's that possible?"

"Beauty must definitely be in the eye of the beholder, because I think you're the first guy to ever tell me that," Chloe said. "I've come close to the 'hot' part, but no one's ever seemed to think much of my uncanny search for truth, justice and the American way."

Clark tipped his head to Lana, whispering, "I kinda like that catchphrase."

Lana shushed him with a kiss.

"Well, this is one guy who definitely finds it attractive," Jimmy said. "I've dated a lot of girls since we first met, but none have ever kept my attention like you have."

More silence.

"Chloe, what's wrong?" Jimmy continued. "I'm sorry, I'm moving too fast, aren't I?"

There was a sigh, then, "No, I can't tell you how much I love hearing you say those things," Chloe said. "But there's something I really have to tell you or I'll go completely nuts."

"Ohhhhh," Jimmy said, sounding nervous. "You have a boyfriend, don't you?"

Chloe straight out laughed at that. "No, not even close," she said. "But this definitely has to do with other guys."

Silence again, and Clark thought he knew why. Jimmy had to have been thinking that Chloe already felt trapped—committed to Jimmy because he was 'saving' her right now. He'd wondered the same thing countless times about Lana—but Clark had always been wrong about that.

"Chloe—oh no, what did I do?" Jimmy said.

There was a heave of air, then it was clear that Chloe was trying not to cry. "Okay, I promised myself I wouldn't freak out about this in front of you, but you know what we did that summer we met—"

"Damn, I knew that's what it was," Jimmy cut in. "Chloe I'm so sorry. I've wanted to tell you how sorry I was since that night. It was stupid. I swear I'm not really like that. I was just, you know . . . "

"Curious, and caught up in the moment?" Chloe answered, sniffing. "Yeah, me too. And that's pretty much what I wanted to say to you. I feel so stupid about it, and I don't want you to think that I've, well, done that with tons of guys since . . . like it isn't a big deal. Because I haven't, and it is . . . a big deal, I mean."

Jimmy started laughing now, and Chloe followed. "So here we've been stepping on egg shells around one another, afraid to talk about the obvious, when we felt the same way to begin with."

"Yeah, that's kinda crazy," Chloe said. "I was sure you thought I was some kind of floozy."

He laughed again. "Floozy? That's another thing I like about you—you never fall into clichés or typical talk. Conversations with you are always clever and fresh."

Chloe giggled right along with him, then she took a deep breath, and said, seriously, "So can we shake hands and start over?"

Jimmy hesitated. "I have a better idea," he said, barely audible enough for Clark and Lana to hear.

Lana put her hand over her mouth, knowing Chloe would absolutely die if she knew they were in the closet to hear all that . . . but it was even worse now . . . Jimmy was kissing her.

Clark held Lana close, having the exact same thoughts. He and Lana weren't the original intruding couple—but how could Chloe & Jimmy know that? As much as he wished they'd finish up and move along—so he could get back to his own brand of entertainment—he was happy for Chloe.

But as he started mulling over what they'd said, the naive side of his brain shut off and he finally understood. He couldn't help but ask. "Did you know about that?" he whispered into Lana's ear.

Lana shrugged, not wanting to lie, but never wanting to feel guilty about telling anyone, not even Clark. Chloe hadn't often confided in her about guys—nor Lana in Chloe. There was only one reason for that—Clark Kent would've usually been the topic of love-life discussion . . . for either of them.

Clark nodded, understanding why Lana was mum about it.

It was another thirty minutes until they were able to escape the closet, when Jimmy and Chloe decided to watch a movie and left to get popcorn.

Lana suggested she and Clark return to the lake—with a few blankets this time. "I love the sound of nature at night. It's so peaceful," Lana said.

"Then maybe you wouldn't like the Fortress after all," Clark said. "There's not a single sound, unless I make it."

Lana stood on tip toes. "Sometimes, silence can be very nice too," she said, kissing him. "Let's go see just how quiet we can be."

Part 61:

After a nice continuation of their conference in the closet, but out by the lake this time, Lana nestled into Clark and they fell asleep to the sound of crickets. A light breeze swept over them, but all was perfect in the world for those few hours—even in seventeenth century France.

For the first time, Lana felt like a true intruder as she lived through the rest of Isobel's night with Kal-El.

Clark woke Lana in the middle of her dream, laughing. "Whoa . . . uhh, Lana," he said, realizing that she was still completely out of it as she was trying to tug his shirt off. "I've heard of sleep-walking, but umm . . . "

It took Lana a moment to orient herself, then she threw her hands over her face. "Did I do that?" she asked, having seen his bare chest in the moonlight.

Clark smiled at her embarrassment. "I would've let you carry on, but I didn't think you'd be too happy about that," he said. "And besides, I kinda prefer you being conscious when your frisky side comes out."

She laughed now, noticing her wet lips. "How long . . . "

"You've been kissing me for about ten minutes now," Clark said. "But it wasn't until you started ripping buttons off that I thought you may still be in dreamland."

Lana sat up and gasped, searching Clark's shirt with her hands for evidence of missing buttons. "How did I. . . ?" She was still in a daze, wondering how she did that without waking up.

"With your teeth," Clark said, sounding serious. When Lana's face reflected pure mortification, he smiled. "I'm joking. You just grabbed my shirt and ripped!"

"Oh, is that all?" she asked, like that was any less embarrassing than taking them off with her teeth. "I can't imagine what you were thinking."

"Gulp, gulp," Clark said with a smirk. She crashed back into his arms, and he kissed her. "Go back to sleep, princess, I'll stay on crouching-tiger, hidden-dragon patrol."

"Very funny," she said, closing her eyes, and falling back to sleep on his bare chest.

It was morning in France when Lana returned. Isobel and Marguerite were gathering eggs from the hen house, as Kal-El was bringing up a bucket from the well. Isobel's four cows needed feeding and milking—there was a lot to do, but she seemed to have energy for only one thing—and he was walking toward the kitchen.

She needed her staff back, but if they were to return in two days as they planned, she knew they'd lecture and scold her about Kal-El. And she definitely wasn't in the mood to deal with that.

When she entered the kitchen, Isobel said, "I'll need to go into town today. I must deliver a message to my staff members, letting them know that their holiday has been extended."

He smiled. "Does this mean you're going to teach me how to milk a cow?"

"And muck stalls, and scatter chicken scratch," she said, laughing as she cracked eggs into a bowl. "You sure you want to stay?"

Kal-El wrapped his arms around her from behind, kissing down her neck. "Forever."

Isobel melted in his arms, closing her eyes and forgetting all about breakfast. Then CRASH. She and Kal-El turned to find Marguerite standing in a pile of broken glass—one of Isobel's favorite vases.

Kal-El raced over and grabbed her before she stepped into the shards. "What did you do without me, Isa?"

"Watch my child," she laughed, warming as he called her the pet name he'd started using last night. The way he said it was so soft and affectionate, like she was a kitten. And she'd started calling him Kal—which sounded all the more delicious to her.

Marguerite patted Kal's cheeks. "Play ball, Papa!"

"You want to play ball again?" he asked, beaming. He had been uncomfortable about Marguerite referring to him as her father last night, until Isobel said how sweet she thought it was. And now he loved it. "Okay, let me clean up this mess, then we'll play with the ball."

He set her on a chair, keeping a careful eye on her as he picked up the largest wedges of glass with his hands.

"What are you doing?" Isobel asked in a panic when she turned to see him. "You'll cut your hands." She walked over and grabbed a broom and wastebasket.

Kal looked at the broken glass in his hands, all sharp enough to pierce a normal man's skin. He stared back at Isobel. Her mouth was parted, waiting for him to dump the glass in the wastebasket.

"Are you all right? Did it cut you?" she asked, wondering why he was breathing so hard, and looking at her like he was debating if he should speak.

He didn't want to hide anything from Isobel—she was a part of him now, and he always wanted it that way.

"Isa, there's something I need to tell you," he said, crushing the glass in his hands and letting the remaining slivers fall into the wastebasket.

Isobel gasped, but didn't' scream. She'd already witnessed Kal's speed, and suspected he may have a few more abilities. Unique gifts—witch craft included—were rare, but not unheard of. Most dismissed such nonsense to mythology, but Isobel knew better.

"You're both terribly fast and have the skin of a dragon," she said with amusement. "Can you do anything else impressive? Besides the talents I discovered yesterday."

He grinned. "Yes, plenty," he said. "But you're right, you've already seen what I most like to do." He gave her a soft kiss.

When Isobel opened her eyes, Kal stepped back from her and stared hard at the palm of his hand, starting a small fire there.

Marguerite squealed and clapped her hands.

Isobel was definitely impressed, but then she looked at him in confusion. "You said you started the fire in the barn by accident."

"And that's true," he said, whispering what happened to Isobel, so Marguerite couldn't hear. Children were never too young to pick up on things they shouldn't. "But I think yesterday helped me gain control over that. Otherwise, we'd have to be in the lake every time we were together."

Isobel smiled. "Glad I could help."

Kal then put on a show of his other abilities for both girls. Isobel continued to be both impressed and further curious, and Marguerite clapped with joy, cheering for, "More! More!"

After they'd settled down and Kal had moved onto simpler things—like keeping his promise to play ball with Marguerite, Isobel couldn't stop the wheels turning in her head.

She rocked back and forth in a chair on the porch as she watched this new man in her life—though it felt like he'd always been there—play with her child like she always dreamed a father would. The gentle breeze blew across her property, and everything seemed perfect as the fresh smell of flowers and newly grown grass wafted around her.

But the questions kept itching at her and she couldn't relax until she had some answers. "Kal," she called.

He turned to her, the ball Marguerite just threw bouncing off his knees and making her giggle again. "Yes?"

When Isobel waved him toward her, he scooped up Marguerite and tossed her into the air, catching her and putting her on his hip. She banged on his chest with her chubby little hands. "Again!" He tossed her once more as they walked.

When Kal reached Isobel on the porch, he was surprised to see the same expression of startle he saw when he'd first rescued Marguerite by the lake. "What's the matter?" he asked.

Isobel released the breath she was holding. "Last night, when we were . . . well, when we didn't do what we wanted to, you said it was forbidden by your people," she said, having been too carried away last night to attribute his reluctance to anything more than religion—which she would respect. "Who exactly were you talking about? Why have you been so elusive about where you're from?"

Part 62:

"Where I'm from?" Kal said, stalling as though he didn't quite understand Isobel's question. "Well, I, uhh . . . "

"Kal," Isobel said, "I won't judge you from your past, or whatever you're running from."

He shook his head. "That's not it, Isa. It's just so complicated, I'm not sure I can answer it right now. It's quite a distance from here—that may be all I can give you for a time." It was forbidden to speak of his origin or mission, but his father Zor-El had said nothing about revealing his powers. So there was no reason to fear what she already knew.

"But you speak French perfectly," she said. "So you must at least be from France, correct?"

He shook his head again. "I've only been able to speak French since I arrived in the country one week ago."

Isobel's mouth parted, then curled into a smile. "You're quite funny. But stop avoiding my question."

Marguerite honked Kal's nose. "Papa so funny!"

Papa wasn't feeling very funny, Kal wanted to say. Instead he tried to smile at her, then looked back to Isobel who was staring at him with curious fright again. "Can we talk about it after we go into town?" he asked.

Isobel was suddenly feeling stubborn. She didn't like it when people kept things from her. Most of her life had been shrouded in secrecy, and it was the last thing she wanted from someone she felt so close to. How was it possible that she could be falling in love with Kal after so short a time together? Yet she knew that's what she was feeling. Everything about him made her insides stir. Which is why she decided at last to give into his request.

"That's fine, we'll speak of it later," she said. "But I believe it might be best if Marguerite and I go alone."

"I can care for her," Kal said, tickling Marguerite's round tummy.

Isobel smiled, unable to stop herself as her daughter wiggled and squirmed with delight. "I know you can, and she'd love it. But it would be difficult to explain why I left her home."

Kal nodded, relieved that Isobel had lightened up so quickly. She really was the woman of his dreams, and he'd fight to stay with her if he had to. Which he knew he would. "I'll do what I can around here while you're gone," he said. "I just hope I don't make a mess of things."

Isobel stood from her rocker, putting her arms around both Kal and her daughter, who was still in his arms. She rested against him, listening to his strong heartbeat. "In the two days you've been here, you've taken my house and made it a home. You could not possibly make a mess of anything."

He kissed the top of her head. "I'm falling in love with you, Isa," he said, swallowing.

"And I with you," she said, looking up to him, her eyes glossy. "And that is certainly something I'd decided would never happen to me. You've changed my soul and given me hope again."

He kissed her tenderly, and Marguerite laughed, patting both their cheeks. "Kisses for baby," she said, grabbing their attention immediately. They each gave her sweet little pecks on her cheeks and she grinned.

"Yes, kisses for baby," Kal said, knowing she must have been repeating something Isobel had taught her. "And kisses for Mama, too," he continued, moving back to Isobel's lips.

Isobel went into town in a small wagon, with Marguerite on her lap as she led the horses. Marguerite waved at everyone they passed, and people eyed them curiously.

Isobel had only been into town a few times. Her staff members did the running about for her. Thank heaven she had visited her head of staff at his sister's home before, or she'd have no idea where to deliver her message.

She stepped up to the porch of a small dwelling, and tapped on the door. A few moments later, an older man with a cheery face opened it up. "Mistress! What a surprise. I hope all is well."

"Yes, indeed, Stephan," Isobel said to her head of staff. "So well in fact, that I've come to suggest you take another week of holiday. Could you please ensure the others are informed?"

Stephan's forehead wrinkled, and he was about to speak, but someone was tugging on his pant leg. He looked down to see a beaming Marguerite. "Ahh, my little angel," he said, lifting her up. "Want to have a horsey ride?"

Marguerite threw her hands in the air. "Papa give me horsey ride! And play ball!"

All the blood rushed out of Isobel's face as Stephan was taken aback by her daughter's announcement. "Perhaps she's decided to call you Papa instead of Grandpappy now."

"I suppose she has," Stephan said, sitting on a chair and bouncing Marguerite on his knee. "Pony girl, pony girl, won't you be my pony girl? Don't say no, here we go, riding across the plains . . . " he lifted her in the air, then moaned from the strain of it. "Ahhh, this old pony isn't want he used to be."

"Again, Grandpappy! Again!"

Isobel tried to relax as she gave a false smile. "Looks as though she's back to calling you Grandpappy."

"Yes, indeed," he said, sounding a bit too curious. "You haven't met a fellow have you? Someone she may be attaching herself to?"

This man was terribly good at reading Isobel. "I've told her a bit about her papa these last couple of days," she lied. He and the rest of the staff would have to learn about Kal on her own terms—not Marguerite's—and when she was ready to tell them.

"I see," Stephan said, appraising Isobel. "Well, why don't you let me play with my little angel why you do some shopping. You could use a visit to the dressmaker's, you know."

Isobel looked down at the day dress she wore—certainly not fit for a countess, but no one around there knew she was one anyway. "Is it really that bad?"

"Awful, my dear," he said with a smile. "There are much newer fashions I'm sure you'll take a liking to."

Shopping actually sounded like a brilliant idea. She now had someone to wear a new dress for. "Thank you, I'll be back shortly then."

"Take your time," Stephan said. "I've got plenty of it myself. I'd thought I'd be alone most the day and now I have a little friend."

Marguerite blew a raspberry on his cheek.

Isobel did take her sweet time as she browsed the selection of dresses in the shops. She found two in particular that she thought Kal would find especially tempting. She held them up one at a time in front of a mirror, and beamed with delight. She was in love, and had never felt so content.

After she'd paid for the dresses, she carried the bundled packages out the door and bumped right into a man carrying a stack of books. The incident was neither of their faults—both were carrying loads that blocked their vision, but Isobel felt compelled to be the first to apologize. "I'm so sorry, sir. My deepest regrets."

He grunted and started picking up his books, then glanced up—sending a wave of ice through Isobel's veins. She dropped her packages again, and tried to run off.

But he was too quick, grasping her wrist. "Well hello, Countess!" he said with a snarl. "Been lookin' all over for you. What a happy coincidence."

"Leave me be, Pembrook, please," she said. "I'll give you anything. I've not followed the ways of my family—you know this."

He tightened his grip—holding both wrists now. "All I know is that there's a pretty price on a witch's head, and yours is a particularly PRETTY one."

"I can pay you more," she said in a plea of desperation, gasping for both strength and air. "Whatever Gertrude has promised you, I'll double it."

He backhanded her—as hard as he'd punch a man, leaving her barely able to stand. "Do not be so disrespectful of the Duchess! Her calling is of sacred consequence—to rid this country of the filth of your people. Including that soiled little child we know you have."

Isobel pulled back, feeling the muscle of ten men, and kicked the stout man square in the face. It was enough to make him let go, holding his bleeding nose and shouting after her as she ran into the woods behind the dress shop. It would not be safe to go back for her wagon, nor Marguerite right that moment. There was only one person who could help her.

Part 63:

Kal was trying desperately hard to get milk to come out of the cow's udder when he saw Isobel running through the woods toward him. His heart gave one big thud, then he super-sped toward her, taking her into his arms just as she collapsed.

"What happened," he asked, breathless as she went limp. "Isa! Isa!" He carried her inside, laid her on the sofa, then hurried to the well for some water.

When he came back, she was opening her eyes.

"Where's Marguerite," he asked, still panicked as he spoke. He lifted her up and helped her drink.

"She's all right," was all Isobel could manage at first. "He's found us, Kal."

"Who's found you?"

"Pembrook . . . he works for the Duchess Gertrude . . . she's a witch hunter . . . they all are," Isobel said, weeping. "I don't dare bring Marguerite back here. Someone's sure to tell Pembrook where I live."

Kal held onto her as she cried. "No one's touching you, Isa," he said. "Or Marguerite. I can promise you that."

Isobel nodded, tears still streaming. "I don't want to run anymore. I'm not a part of the dark world my family belongs to," she said. "How can they punish me and my child for the doings of my ancestors?"

Kal couldn't help but see the similarities in their lives. "Ancestors definitely have a way of haunting you," he said.

She looked up at him, finally able to see through her foggy eyes. There was only one thing involving ancestors that she thought Kal might be a victim of.

"Kal—are you a sorcerer?" she asked. "If you are, everything would make sense." Isobel knew that sorcerers—though rare—were the most powerful type of wizards, capable of many of the abilities Kal had displayed. Their powers were passed through generations, displaying themselves only every few hundred years in an unsuspecting heir. She also knew that there was even now an unknown sorcerer who was praying upon the souls of witches—increasing his power each time. But this couldn't possibly be Kal.

Kal shook his head vigorously. "No, I'm not a sorcerer, there's much more to it," he said.

"Then what is it, Kal?" she asked, pleading. "I've trusted you with the darkest of my secrets, yet you hide so much of yourself from me."

He released a heavy sigh, knowing he'd have to come clean if he was to keep her faith in him. "Are you sure Marguerite is safe for a while, this will take some time to explain."

"I'm sure," she said.

Kal started with the simplest of details, that his powers were fueled by the Earth's sun. When he moved further into his origin, he explained it much like others from the House of El had—or would in the future, leaving Isobel white-faced on the couch.

"Krypton?" she asked flatly. "My family has always taught me to believe in other worlds besides our own, but I took it as more of their ramblings. I suppose I was wrong."

He smiled, thinking he should've told her the first moment they met. She truly was meant to be with him—he knew it. "Isa, I was sent here on a task demanded of every male of my lineage—to protect the knowledge of my people," he said. "But so far, I've only been able to accomplish part of what my father commanded that I do. I, uhh—got a little distracted."

He kissed her and Isobel warmed through and through. "Just part, huh? Well I doubt I can do anything to help, but if I can, will it make it possible for you to stay?"

"It might," he answered with a grin. "I'll have to do a lot of begging, but I planned to do that anyway."

"Begging is good," Isobel said. "But if begging fails, is there any other way to escape the grasp of your father?"

"I'm not sure," he said with a smirk. "This is my first attempt at rebellion. It certainly isn't tolerated on Krypton."

That made Isobel's stomach lurch. "What would he do if you refused to return—or accomplish your mission?"

Kal shrugged. "I guess I'll find out," he said. "It's not exactly something we discussed when I left."

"Perhaps if you do all he asks," Isobel suggested with hope, "he'll give you his blessing. How much more must you do, Kal?"

It was forbidden to speak of it, but Isobel had taken the most damning of information—that he was an alien—quite well, so what harm could knowing the rest do?

"There are three stones hidden in the far corners of this planet, Isa—all of which have the knowledge of Krypton encoded in them. My duty is to relocate all three—as is done every five hundred Earth years," Kal said, earning a stare of intense interest from Isobel. "I relocated one already, from Egypt to China—leaving a map embroidered by a seamstress—for the Kryptonian heir who will unite the stones. The next stone, I located here—in the very forest I just found you running through. And I'll have to relocate that one as well. And then, I'll search for the third. The knowledge must be kept safe from both criminals from our planet and humans from yours."

"Why? What's so sacred about this knowledge?" Isobel asked.

He told her everything he knew to be encoded in the stones that would reveal all when they were united, giving the bearer power beyond imagination. He spoke of the technology of Kryptonians, their ability to heal any injury or disease, and then he said how humans would use this knowledge unwisely, and criminals from his own world would use it to rule unjustly—through manipulation and blackmail—threatening to take all away from his civilization if their demands were not met.

When he was through explaining, Isobel had a look of confusion on her face. "But that knowledge could benefit those on Earth as well," she said, thinking of the plague that had taken thousands of lives in Europe. "Who's led you to believe that humans would use these stones for evil purposes?"

Kal could see that he'd touched a soft spot, but also knew by the sound of her voice that she wasn't holding it against him. "My father, and his father before him," he said. "Experiences with humankind have proven to be sketchy at best."

Isobel took a deep breath, knowing he wasn't far off. "Not all humans are the same," she said. "Perhaps one day your people will come to trust mine."

Kal kissed her softly, getting lost in the warmth of her lips. "I know my own experience has certainly been different."

It was only minutes later that they both thought of Marguerite—it was too quiet in the house to not be reminded of her absence.

"I believe Marguerite would be safer staying with my head of staff tonight in town—perhaps we all would," Isobel said.

Kal nodded, but felt uncomfortable about it. "I don't want us to be separated from Marguerite, Isa," he said. "I want to protect my new family. You're all I care about now."

"Lana, are you okay? You feel really warm," Clark said, which was Lana's first conscious thought.

She opened her eyes and noticed she was in her bed, not out by the lake. "How'd I get here?"

"It's noon," he said. "I couldn't get you to wake up, and now you feel like you may have a fever."

She shook her head. "I feel fine. I just had a pretty intense dream."

Clark raised his brows with a half-smile on his face.

Lana smiled back softly. "Not that kind of intense, Clark. It was PG-13 this time."

Part 64:

Clark felt Lana's forehead again. "Yeah, it seems like you're cooling off," he said. "It must've just been the dream. What happened?"

"A lot of stuff. Big stuff," she said, going on to tell him everything for the next hour. When she was finished, her heart was pounding so hard she could feel it in her throat. "Clark, just as I was coming to, Isobel and Kal were super-speeding away to get Marguerite—and out of the corner of my eye—or Isobel's I guess, I saw Pembrook—and another guy, Magistrate Wilkins, who I've seen before in dreams of Isobel. They were standing just outside an open window."

Clark's eyes widened. "I guess that explains how Gertrude learned about the three stones."

Lana nodded. "Bad timing for Kal to spill his guts, huh?"

"Yeah, I've been the victim of bad timing a few times myself," he said.

"Yes you have," she said, sitting up to kiss him—she really wanted to move on, having felt like she was in Isobel's head far too long this time. She liked her own reality much, much better. "Which reminds me, Clark—I promised Chloe that we'd corner you sometime today when Jimmy was gone and make you explain a few things."

"Oh no," he said, sliding down in the bed and pulling the covers over him. "I think I need a nap now."

She ripped them off. "I think you've been hiding long enough," Lana said. "You're the one who hates hanging question marks so much, and yet you've left a trail of them longer than the Mississippi River." She laughed, then yelled, "Chloe!"

Clark knew he still had a lot of explaining to do, but his stomach was still a little tight from what Lana had told him about Kal and Isobel. It made him wonder—how much was too much to tell people—even the ones he loved?

Chloe opened the door. "Hey, I'm glad you're finally awake—let me grab your lunch, or breakfast—whatever you want to call it at one in the afternoon."

"I'll get it," Clark said, super-speeding out, and coming back at normal speed as he balanced three plates in his arms. "Chloe, can you grab the drinks? I haven't developed my super-ambidexterity yet," he said with a smirk.

"Oh, we're gonna have a picnic in Lana's bedroom huh?" Chloe said. "I bet it's not the first time you've imagined that, Clark. Should I grab some whipped cream as well?"

Lana swiped her hand and made one of her shoes fly across the room, giving Chloe a swift kick in the butt. "Don't mess with me, I've feeling very medieval today," she said, laughing at Chloe's startled reaction.

"I think I'm going to make myself a meteor rock cocktail—I need some powers of my own," Chloe said. "This is getting VERY unfair."

"Your super-power is your cheeky mouth, Chlo," Lana said. "I doubt things will ever be on an even playing field with you around."

"True," Chloe said with a flattered smile, walking off to get the drinks. "I do keep you two in line, don't I?"

Before Chloe came back, Lana found an old blanket in the closet so she could put it on the floor for their 'picnic'. Clark had followed her into the walk-in closet, of course, noting how much roomier this one was than the last, and suggesting they try it out later. Lana was more than happy to agree.

The three of them sat down on the blanket like they were having a pow-wow, with crossed legs, facing one another. "Is this what chics do at sleepovers? Clark asked.

"No," Lana said, having just swallowed a bite of her sandwich, "if we were at a slumber party, we'd be on our tummies—giggling, and kicking our feet back and forth in pink fuzzy slippers."

Chloe laughed. "She's not joking," she said, then turned to Lana. "I remember those pink fuzzy slippers you had a few years ago."

Lana rolled her eyes, and in a mock tone of rebuke she said, "Chloe, I've pleaded with you to never speak of my 'pink stage' ever again."

Clark looked shocked. "I liked your pink stage—it's when—" he stopped, looking to Chloe.

"Oh, get over it, Clark," Chloe said. "I know what you were going to say."

"Okay," Clark said, thinking that if Chloe was telling him to 'get over it' it meant she was over it too. He smiled at Lana. "It was in your 'pink stage' that I really fell in love with you."

Lana gave a soft smile. "Then maybe I'll decide to like the color again."

"Well, you look pretty dang hot in black too," he said, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Okay, you two," Chloe said. "I'm eating. Let's talk about which one of the three of us DOESN'T do too well when he's wearing black."

Clark couldn't resist looking between the two of them. "What do you mean 'he'? Is there another guy in the room besides myself?" he asked. "I look freakin' awesome in black."

The girls both laughed, then Chloe said, "Yes, but for some mysterious reason, you act like a total jerk when you wear it—why is that?"

"I don't think black is the problematic color for my little guy," Lana said with a fake tone of sympathy, patting his knee. "It's red that brings out his naughty side."

"Red?" Chloe asked, confused. Then she got it. "Oh—so I was right about the school ring making you go nutty? So red meteor rock does a wack-job on your brain, huh?"

"Oh yeah," Clark said. "To state it mildly."

"So when you went all Hell's Angels on us sophomore year when you got the ring—you were like drugged?" Chloe asked, to which he and Lana nodded. "And of course when you took off to Metropolis, then when else? Because you've had your fair share of jerk moments."

"I wish I could blame every one of those times on red-k, but I'm not that lucky," Clark said to Chloe. "There was one other time though—when you and Pete were infected by those cave worms, and Pete slipped a red rock in my pocket so I'd get all crazy with you two."

"Did it work?" Chloe asked, not too surprised that Pete knew about Clark's powers and weaknesses.

"All too well," Clark said, shivering as he remembered Lana walking in on him and Chloe kissing in the Talon. "I wish I could forget about everything I do when I'm messed up like that, just like you and Pete did, but I don't have that luxury."

Both Chloe and Lana dropped their heads, knowing those memories must be absolutely horrible for Clark—the most self-conscious do-gooder in the world. "Clark, it's not that I haven't forgiven you for this, but you did something so cruel to me once, that I'll never really be able to let it go unless I know what happened."

Clark felt the blood rush out of his face. "Dang, what?"

Lana was sure she knew exactly what Chloe was going to say, and she also wanted an answer to the awful thing Clark did to her that very same week.

Chloe cleared her burning throat, feeling the pain of it all over again. "It was what you did last fall in the Torch office," she said, not wanting to explain everything word for word.

Clark squinted. "That's kinda vague, Chloe. If I'm worthy of hanging for something, I need a few more hints."

She rolled her eyes, which were watering—it was such an awful memory for so many reasons. "You practically said you loved me, then you went in for a kiss—" Clark still looked completely confused. "Freak—stop me when I'm getting warmer, please! This isn't easy to talk about."

Part 65:

It was obvious to Lana that Clark wasn't faking his reaction—he didn't have a clue about what Chloe was saying. Which was more than a little strange.

She took his hand. "Clark, there were a few days last fall when you seriously went off the deep end," she said. "It didn't even seem like you were the guy we can now recognize as Red-K Clark."

Clark swallowed. "What else did I do?" he asked, hoping that would spark some recognition of what Chloe was talking about. Or maybe he didn't want to know.

"Well, let's see," Lana said, acting like she had to strain to remember—ha! "It was the week you quit football, skipped all your school classes, and discovered me with a certain guy in the coaches office."

Clark's face went completely white. He knew exactly what had happened that particular week—though the coaches office part wasn't ringing a bell—thank heaven. "Now I know what you're talking about—well not really, because it wasn't me, but—"

"Then who was it Clark?" Chloe asked, angry that he was trying to get out of this so easily. "Did Tina Greer pull a zombie gig and morph into you again?"

"No—seriously, Chloe, it was more than that," he said. "I'm so sorry for whatever I supposedly did to you, but I can't even talk to you about it if you're gonna keep looking at me like that."

Chloe released a sigh, thinking his excuse better be damn good. "Fine."

As confusing as it was to understand why Clark acted the way he did that week, Lana had mostly related it to a sudden rage of jealousy where she was concerned—but what never made sense is why he acted the way he did with Chloe, or acted like school didn't matter anymore.

What she wasn't liking now, however, was how Chloe was beating on Clark before he even had a chance to explain himself. Lana had made that same mistake way too many times herself, and now felt overly protective of him since she finally knew how very unfounded her accusations were.

"So here's what happened the week that I'm sure you're talking about," Clark said. "I've told Lana about the three stones now, and how they were always meant for me, but it wouldn't hurt to explain them in more detail. And it's obvious I should start with the water stone first."

Chloe wanted to roll her eyes, thinking Clark was getting off topic, but Lana was looking at her with a 'be patient' type of expression.

"I don't know how the Luthors always end up smack in the middle of my destiny, but they do," he said. "And this was the worst of all times for it to happen. Lionel's thugs found one of the stones at about the same time Lex found one—the first of two that I stole from him. Anyway, the stone Lionel had in jail with him was the water stone—one that, if you can believe it—had the power to switch the souls of two people."

"No way!" both Lana and Chloe said, not yet seeing where this was going, but shocked just the same.

"Serious. He planned to use it between he and Lex, so asked Lex to come visit him, having hid the stone in his hand," Clark said. "But the stones often called out to me—this high-pitched ringing I'd hear. I was surprised the noise was coming from the federal prison, and when I got there, I saw that Lionel had the stone and was reaching for Lex—so I jumped between them and got zapped."

"Zapped?" the girls asked.

"As in zapped into Lionel's body," he said, hoping they'd believe him. But of course, he'd told them stranger things before. "And Lionel was transferred into mine."

Chloe and Lana both gasped, then in unison again, they said. "EWWWWWWWWWWWW!"

Lana wiped her mouth. "Lionel Luthor KISSED ME!" she said, her gag reflex turning on. "I'm gonna freaking puke."

"OH MY—" Chloe said. "You, I mean, HE talked just like Lionel—trying to freak me out about testifying against him—saying he might be free sooner than I thought. He even called me Ms. Sullivan in that creepy perverted way that he always did. How the hell didn't I clue into that?"

Lana was wiping her lips again, and Clark couldn't help but ask. "So he kissed you as in closet-type kissing, or—"

"No!" she said right away. "I smacked the crap out of him. It was awful—he forced himself on me—I had bruises on my arms for a week."

"He . . . " Clark couldn't even continue, looking at Lana with anguish. "Lana, how did you ever forgive me for that? No wonder you ripped my head off at school when you told me about you and Jason."

Lana shivered, remembering that terrible moment. "Clark, as far as I knew you were the same guy who had just told me Jason flew around the world to 'pluck my succulent fruit,'" she said. "That's why I was so angry—you'd been acting like an arrogant jerk all week."

"Lana I think there's a much more serious word for someone who forces himself on a girl," he said, wanting to strangle Lionel right that moment. "I'm glad nothing else happened—because he had my powers too. But seriously, how have you gotten over that?"

She hesitated, wondering how honest to be. "The same way I got over you leaving for Metropolis," she said. "I haven't. But last spring, I just decided to trust you again, knowing that there had to be an explanation for the inconsistencies in your life. And I'm glad that I did, because now you've trusted ME with the answers I sought, and everything finally makes sense."

Clark nodded, wishing for a moment that the two of them were alone, but he had to work through this with someone else as well. Someone who obviously was just as hurt by Lionel's actions.

"And what about you, Chloe?" he asked, turning to her. "What gave you the faith to ever talk to me again? Did you say that Lionel kissed you too?"

She shook her head, still amazed that she—the 'I can spot anything out of place' sleuth that she was, didn't figure it out when the butthead in her office talked & acted EXACTLY like Lionel Luthor. Duh.

"Okay, I lied when I said I was over it. Because like Lana, I'm not—well, not until this very moment," she said. "But the hero in you has always outweighed the psycho I see every once in a while. And let's not forget that I've done my fair share of things to lose your trust—yet you've always forgiven me."

Clark smiled. "So you're not going to tell me what Lionel did?"

"I'll let Lana tell you, if you really want to know," Chloe said, she just couldn't bring herself to tell him now. "All I wanted was an explanation, and this definitely ranks up there with your best excuses—second only to being transported to the arctic because you put three rocks together. It's hard to top that one."

"How about being sucked through the cave wall into outer space for three months?" Clark asked. "Where does that one rank?"

Chloe tipped her head and blinked once. "Can we just start a top ten list. This is seriously getting publishable," she said. "Forget Pulitzers, I could win a Nobel Prize."

"I'll make you a deal, Chloe," Clark said, serious about it. "For putting up with all my crap, you have exclusive rights to anything I ever decide to expose. I'm not saying that I'll ever do that, but if the time comes—the story will be ALL yours."

Chloe's smile was the size of an oil tanker. "You know I'd rip your throat out if you ever gave that scoop to someone else," she said. "So that's a darn good promise to keep—for your own sake."

"Clark will keep the promise, Chlo," Lana said, squeezing Clark's knee. "I'll make sure of that."

"Yeah, I have my own personal Jiminy Cricket now. As if I wasn't overly-conscious enough," Clark said.

"Wives are good at that, I hear," Chloe said, having it slip out before she could stop it. To her surprise though, neither Lana or Clark flinched—they just looked at one another and smiled.

Whoa, she thought, this was definitely getting serious. And she was glad it was. They should be together.

To break the silence, Chloe continued. "Anyway, glad you somehow zapped back into your own body, and out of that saggy bag of Lionel's—bet he was sure happy with the original trade," she said. "Do you have any idea of what else he did? Did he learn about your powers."

"Oh yeah, he did some pretty damaging stuff—as you both know," he said, making a conscious choice to not mention what his mother conveyed to him—they'd never get over that image—just as he hadn't. He showered three times a day for the week following the Lionel invasion. Who knows what else Lionel did while he was in his body?

"He may know just about everything there is to know about me, but he says he doesn't have any recollection of it," Clark continued. "The most interesting thing however, was that he was dying of a live disease before we switched bodies, and when we changed back—he was healed. And he also claimed to have reformed his bad boy ways."

The girls were again floored by Clark's revelation. The super-secrets just kept pouring out. How much more would there be to learn about him?

"Clark, it's not that I doubt your soul can change a person's life—mine included—but Lionel could be lying. At least about the change of heart," Lana said.

He nodded. "Yeah, I think you're right."

Chloe gave a wicked smirk. "So if it weren't for that darn stone, Lionel would be six feet under?" she said. "I'm sure that's by far your worst save yet, Clark. Intentional or not."

Clark had wondered that several times over. "Sometimes I wonder how I've changed the future by helping people—it may not have always been the best thing to do," he said. "Like Lex, for instance. I've saved his hide many more times than either of you know—or that he even knows of."

"I'm sure you've saved ALL of us more times than we know," Lana said. "And I'm also certain you have many more lives to save."

"I hope I can continue to help people," he said. "But I can only do so much. I've had enough bad experiences with people witnessing my powers to know that it usually turns out bad."

Part 66:

Chloe knew that was true from her own experience with Alicia. And both Lionel & Lex only suspected Clark's abilities when they were willing to do anything to take advantage of him. "Yeah, I don't think exposing you in a front page article would be a good idea," she said. "I'll definitely hold my tongue until you choose to go public."

Lana took a risk to mention something she'd been thinking about the last couple of days. "Clark, what if you were to have some sort of secret identity—you know, help people without them knowing it was you—or at least not Clark Kent."

Clark laughed. "You mean, like Batman?" he said. "Because the mask thing would kill me. I'm way too claustrophobic!"

"Not Batman, Clark," Lana said, laughing along with him. "We've already established that you don't do too well when you're wearing black."

"And you wouldn't necessarily have to have a mask," Chloe said. "You could disguise yourself another way, you know like—"

"Use a comb!" Lana said, giggling hard now, and waving her hands to summon her water bottle, mousse and comb out of the bathroom. They came zooming across the room, and Lana caught two of them, with Chloe snagging the water bottle.

Clark didn't like the look of this. "Oh, no! Keep that crap away from me," he said—frightened out of his mind. "Seriously, mousse makes me look like a total freak."

He was still down on the floor, and Chloe and Lana had very mischievous grins on their faces. This was going to be a VERY fun makeover.

"That's the point, Clark," Lana said. "If you don't want to wear a mask—I'd never want you to cover your gorgeous face anyway—we'll have to make you look totally different."

Clark groaned as Chloe doused his hair with the water bottle. "You guys hate me, don't you?"

Lana kissed his cheek. "I'll make it up to you, don't worry." That was enough to get Clark to sit still, and she shook the mousse bottle, then created a mountain of white foam in her hand. "This won't hurt, I promise," she said, having a difficult time keeping her composure. Perhaps she should get out some hair bows, just to scare him. Or maybe just a scrunchie or two.

Lana ran her hands through Clark's hair, both of them enjoying that, and moved back a bit to get a better look. "Okay, Chlo," she said, studying Clark's hairline. "What do you think—where do we go from here?"

"I say we spike it!" Chloe said with a huge grin.

"Of all the times I've ever wanted to use my super-speed to get out of danger—this ranks as number one!" Clark said, closing his eyes and bracing himself.

Lana and Chloe each took clumps of hair and straightened it with the comb, giving him twenty or more spikes that stuck out almost 3 inches from his scalp.

They were literally rolling on the floor when they were done. "Nahhhh, I don't think that's gonna work—you'll scare the hell out of people," Chloe said.

"Yeah, they might think they'd be better off dead than saved by Spikeman!" Lana said.

Clark was finally laughing with them. "Maybe if you'd let me go with the black theme that I want to—keep the spikes, add some chains and piercings, get some black eyeliner and lipstick—I could be Goth Guy," he suggested, praying that neither would take him seriously and give it a try.

"Makeup, huh?" Chloe said, tipping her head and trying to envision him.

Lana grabbed her arm. "Not on your life," she said, smiling. "His face is just perfect . . . however, I think the spikes definitely have to go. Let's see . . . "

She moved back in front of him, spraying his hair down again, and gently combing out each spike. "There, much better," she said, having parted his hair on the side, and slicked it back. "Not that I want you to get used to this style, but it's not bad."

"Not bad at all," Chloe added, surprised how different he looked. "Your hair actually looks a lot darker that way."

"Black?" Clark asked, hopeful. "You're gonna at least give me that, right? It's part of my bad boy image."

The girls nodded their approval. "But you'll have to do something different for your costume," Lana said. "I don't think you'll look tough enough with jeans and a plaid button-up. The bad guys need to shake and tremble when they see you."

Chloe laughed. "Yeah, how about Lycra—that will work!" she said. "That will really get them shaking in their boots. 'Oh, look, Mommy, it's Speedodude! He'll rescue us!'"

"Sorry I don't do the Speedo look," Clark said, feeling this was getting a little out of control. "And I'm not flying around in my swim trunks either."

"How about Captain Underpants?" Chloe said. "Oh, darn! That's taken, isn't it?"

All this crazy talk about spandex got Clark thinking more about the costume thing. He knew this day may come. He couldn't keep taking the risk of people seeing Clark Kent moving at warp speed.

"If I became Superdedooper Dude, or whatever name you guys come up with for me," he said. "Seriously, what would I wear? I've had my clothes burned off several times. I can't be doing that in public."

"Who says?" Lana asked with a smirk. "I doubt anyone would complain."

Chloe shrugged. "Fine with me."

Clark rolled his eyes. "I'm serious," he said. "The strange thing is, that when I came to Earth my parents found these blankets in the ship that are totally indestructible. There were three of them. Red, blue and yellow." He paused to smile at Lana. "My mom says I liked the yellow one best."

"Oh, how cute," she said, reaching over to hold his hand, and kinda getting used to his new slicked-back look.

"And?" Chloe demanded. "Get on with the blankie story."

"Okay, sheesh," Clark said. "So, anyway, one time, when I was about five and in my pyromaniac stage, I put a bunch of stuff in the fireplace—including these blankets, and everything turned to ash but them. The ash literally slid right off—they weren't even dirty."

"Whoa," Chloe said.

"Uhh, yeah," Lana added. "So do you think you could make some sort of suit out of that material? That way it would be more than your skin that was indestructible."

"My mom's actually suggested that before, but I haven't been anxious to wear a Halloween costume on a regular basis, you know?" he said. "Especially not one that makes me look like I walked straight off a stage in Vegas."

That DID worry Lana a bit. "What kind of material are we talking about here—like glitter and sequins?" she asked. "Because if so, I'm still leaning toward the bare flesh thing."

He laughed. "No! But it is kinda shimmery, so you guys would have to promise not to bug me about it," he said. "I'll feel stupid enough as it is. And the suit would probably be really tight—like spandex, so there couldn't be any Queer Eye jokes. I'm serious. I'd die."

The look on Clark's face was now all business, so Lana and Chloe took the hint. "Okay, no jokes," Lana said, thinking the spandex thing may not be that bad anyway. Well, at least not once in a while. She wouldn't want him to wear it to their wedding or anything. "So do you think your mom could make the costume for you? I could help design it, but I'm still pretty deficient in the sewing department."

Clark nodded. "I think she could," he said. "We'd have to make some kind of Kryptonite needle though, otherwise it wouldn't penetrate the material."

"Sweet! Clark in tights!" Chloe said, then threw her hand over her mouth. "Sorry, it slipped. Won't happen again."

He shook his head, giving her a smirk. "So, what about a name," he said. "If I'm going to subject myself to total humiliation, I should at least get a cool name."

"Meteorman," Chloe suggested proudly. When neither looked impressed, she said. "Okay, King Krypton, or what about Mega-muscle Man?" Still, nothing but raised scared eyebrows.

Lana finally smiled. "I've got it . . . Hot Guy in Tights."

Clark laughed and it made Chloe let out an angry huff. "Hold on!" she said. "Why does Lana get to make tight jokes?"

"Because she prefaced it with the word 'hot,' Chloe," Clark answered. "You've gotta know the right way to present the mockery. You know what I mean?"

"Fine. I'll remember you said that" she said with a grin, making it her new quest to think of clever ways to scoff at him without getting in trouble. "So what's your idea for a name, Clark. Your Goth Guy pitch really sucked."

Clark looked between the two of them, then finally decided to admit another one of his secrets. "Okay, this is really embarrassing, but when I was a kid—and could pick up trucks—real ones," Clark said. "I used to wrap the red blanket around me like a cape and pretend that I was a superhero called Superboy. So what do you guys think about that one?"

Lana returned to her knees and put her hands on his face, kissing him softly. "Clark, you're not a boy anymore, you're a man," she said.

He exhaled, then smiled. "Superman?"

"Superman," both Lana and Chloe said, feeling the name was absolutely perfect.

Part 67:

"So now that we've got your buns of steel covered," Chloe said, "and a name to call the caped-crusader side of you, how do you plan on getting around? You might miss some things if you're bolting at light speed all the time. And I don't think your parents will agree to let you turn the farm truck into the Supesmobile."

"Supesmobile?" Lana asked, laughing. "You think my Jeep could be pimped out to match the image?"

Chloe rolled her eyes. "I'm serious, Clark. You're gonna need a cool ride—something that makes a statement."

Clark smiled, realizing something. "You know, Chloe, I don't think you've seen just how cool a ride I already have."

"What?" she asked, looking between the two of them, both with wide grins. "Did you pick up a James Bond Jaguar on the way back from the arctic?"

"Nope. Better, much better," Lana said, then glanced to Clark. "I think you should take her for a spin."

Clark jumped up. "Cool, let's go!" he said. "I need to check out the stream-line effect of my new hairstyle anyway."

"Umm, just as a reminder, Clark, it's not YOUR new do, all right?" Lana said. "Clark Kent gets to keep that yummy locks look."

He smiled. "Maybe you can help me mess it up again when I get back."

"That's a promise," Lana said, kissing his cheek. "Now, go give Chloe the time of her life. Take your time, I need to get ready for the day—or night, anyway."

Chloe was still standing there, stone still, trying to figure out what was going on. "Well, c'mon, Chlo!" he said. "You're only the second person to take me for a test drive."

"What the heck?" Chloe asked, trying not to assume anything too off the wall. "And Lana approves of this?"

"Just go," Lana said, laughing. "Before I change my mind."

Chloe followed Clark to the back lawn, looking at him like he'd lost his freaking mind. "What are we doing out here?" she asked. "You're not gonna like super-speed with me, are you," she said. "'Cuz I already know that little trick of yours, and I like my skin attached just where it is."

Clark laughed. "Your skin wouldn't peel off if I super-sped with you," he said. "I've done it before, but you were unconscious."

"When?"

"Which time?" he asked, laughing harder.

"Oh, whatever," she said, waving away his explanation. "Just tell me what we're doing."

He looked up to the clear afternoon sky. "You're not afraid of heights, are you?"

"Clark, have you ever known me to be afraid of anything—"

"Good!" he said, scooping her up and jetting into the air.

Chloe screamed so loud Clark thought his super-hearing would be ruined forever. "Holy . . . oh my . . . what the . . . when . . . did . . . you . . . freaking . . . learn . . . how . . . to . . . FLYYYYYYYY?"

"I've been able to do it for a while," he said, slowing down now. "But I just started practicing."

They were so far off the ground now that when Chloe finally dared to look down, she thought she was going to lose her lunch and planted her fingernails into Clark's neck to get a better grip—well, at least she tried. "Why do you have to have bullet-proof skin?" she asked, clawing all the harder.

"For when I take my friends flying," he said with a smirk. "It's kinda fun, huh?"

She attempted to laugh. "How could the guy who's afraid to climb cave walls have FUN hundreds of feet in the air?"

"Lana has kinda talked me into it," he said.

Chloe gasped. "Don't tell me this witchy thing has given Lana the ability to fly too!"

He shook his head, still smiling. "No, she just doesn't like to travel any other way now, so I don't have much of a choice than to enjoy it."

She nodded, her stomach feeling even more queasy. "Okay, Mr. Six Flags, this is a whole ton of fun, but . . . "

"You're done already?" he asked, pretending to be offended. "I haven't even done my loop-di-loops for you!"

"No! For heck's sake, no loop-di-loops!" she screamed, burying her head back into his shoulder.

"Okay, maybe next time," he said, starting to go down, slowly. "I'm not very good at those yet, anyway. Last time I almost dropped Lana, but don't worry."

Chloe gripped onto his hair now. "Holy freak, shut up!"

Clark was laughing so much, it was hard for him to concentrate on going in the right direction. "Okay, now where are we?" he said. "Oh, there's the lake." He deepened his voice. "Supes to air traffic control, requesting permission to land."

She let out a groan. "As if you weren't obnoxious enough! Sheesh!"

"Hey, if I have to wear tights, I get to be as obnoxious as I want," he said.

When they were finally on the ground, they saw Lana running down the balcony stairs in nothing but an over-sized towel, with her hair sopping wet. Clark was going to make a smart-remark, but he suddenly realized she wouldn't be doing something so crazy if it wasn't an emergency—then he also saw the satellite phone in her hand.

"What's wrong?" he asked, setting Chloe down and super-speeding to Lana. "Is it my parents?" He'd left them na satellite phone to use in case they needed to contact him.

She shook her head. "It's Jimmy, he's at a café in Metropolis and he's eavesdropping on the conversation next to him. They were talking about Lex, but now . . . " she said. "Just listen!"

Clark took the phone, nervous about what Lana's scared eyes could mean. Lana waved Chloe toward them, and they all walked inside, sitting on the couch and picking up their individual phones to listen in.

There was a young guy's voice, that the three of them knew straight away as Mikail Mxyzptlk's. "So you've lost all of your powers as well? Lex promised that no one else knew out our special fraternity on level 33.1. Who the hell was that guy?"

There was a pause, with the three of them staring wide-eyed at one another, then another familiar voice spoke—that of Ian Randall—one half of him, anyway. "Didn't you hear anything the freak said?" Then mocking an almost Schwarzenegger voice, he said, 'I am Klax-Ar—your powers belong to Krypton.'"

Clark stood and started pacing, feeling like his body was truly made of steel as he was trying to move. And Lana started crying, with her arms on fire.

"Yeah, how crazy was that?" Mikail said. "And did you feel that leeching sensation too—like he was sucking out your soul? I fell right to the ground, and didn't wake up for hours."

"That's exactly what happened to me. The last thing I remember him saying was about a freak name Kal something," Ian said. "He said he was the last son of Krypton and must be destroyed. Did you ever meet a guy named Kal when we were at Luthor Corp?"

Chloe now caught on to the others' reactions and her body went numb.

"No, but there were tons of freaks in there by the time we left," Mikail said. "Who the hell knows who this Kal dude is? And who's Krypton—some super-powered creep this Klax-Ar works for?"

"Speaking of super-creeps, have you heard from Lex since it happened?" Ian asked. "He said he'd contact us by this afternoon, but nothing."

"No, man, not a word," Mikail said. "That guy was freaking OUT OF CONTROL when he came in and saw the mess! I thought he was going to execute every one of us right on the spot."

"It wouldn't be the first time he'd done it," Ian said. "There's been a lot of people disappearing the last couple of months, and it's always the ones who have been stepping outside his rules. I doubt he sent them to Disneyland."

"That guy's been especially vicious since last spring," Mikail said. "I mean, he's always been wacked, but man—it's like he's been possessed by someone even more evil than himself."

Ian laughed. "Like who? His father?"

"Either that, or he's been doping up on those green-infused IV's he gives us," Mikail said. "Which is how I was able to regain my ability back after he took me in. That stuff is crazy! Lex promised he'd have us back on it by tonight. He freaking better call with the new location to meet!"

From there, the conversation drifted into Lex being the big bad baldie everyone already knew he was.

When Jimmy finally came back on the line, he said he was heading back to them right away. That he hoped he'd found what he need to, to reverse the split personality affect on Lex.

Clark wondered how much that would even matter now—he had a bigger fish to fry. Or to be fried by.

"I've got to go see Jor-El, Lana," he said to her after they'd all hung up. She nodded, trying not to show her fear. "I need to learn everything I can about Klax-Ar."

She stood, gripping onto her slipping towel, and again Clark wished it was a better moment to joke. "You have to PROMISE me that you won't go after Klax-Ar on your own."

Clark glanced away, the thought already crossing his mind. "Lana, I—"

She made him look at her in the eyes. "Clark, you swore that we would get through this together," she said. "If you can't make me that promise, I can't make you any promises either."

"What do you mean by that?" Clark asked, trying not to sound agitated but doing a lousy job.

"You know what I mean, Clark," she said. "I've got these powers for a reason, and it's not to make dinner! We're destined to be together for more than one purpose now, and if you go it alone . . . " she was absolutely bawling now, and Clark brought her into his arms.

"I'll come right back after I speak with Jor-El, I promise," he said, knowing he didn't have a choice.

Part 68:

Lana was still reluctant to let Clark leave, but she had to trust him—she wasn't allowed to follow him to the Fortress, and she knew that it was critical for him to learn all he could about Klax-Ar. It was also critical that Lana learn all she could about her powers, and their source, so she could help Clark defeat him. But how was she supposed to go back to sleep when she only woke a few hours ago?

Clark looked to Chloe for help, hoping she understood what he was asking of her. "Don't worry, Clark," Chloe said. "I'll keep Superbabe under lock and key."

Lana sighed. "I'm not going anywhere," she said, annoyed that Chloe hinted that she had to 'babe'-e-sit. "You gave me your word, Clark, and I'm giving you mine."

He smiled down at her. "Just don't change a thing while I'm gone," he said. "I like your hair all wet like this."

"Oh, is that what you like most about me right now?" she asked, happy to at least crack a smile. "Do you think the towel thing will work for my Superbabe outfit?"

He nodded with enthusiasm. "Oh, yeahhhhh!"

"Now I'll have to add a steam room to my list of wedding gifts for you two," Chloe said as she left. "You guys are going to break me!"

Clark waited until Chloe was out of sight, then whispered in Lana's ear. "I don't think that will be necessary. We'll find a way to make our own steam."

"You're naughty," Lana said, kissing his cheek.

"You're the one in a towel!"

She tipped her head, which invited him to her neck without intending it. But of course she didn't mind. "Umm, if I remember right—you started the whole towel thing at Chloe's apartment."

"Ahh, that's right," he said. "So anyway," he continued after a little too long—when he knew he'd better leave right that second for more than one reason. "Can you do me a favor while I'm gone?"

"Anything," she said, both breathless and disappointed—but also knowing the fun better end. It was a good thing he had somewhere to go.

"See that dart board over there?" he said, gesturing to the wall behind her. "I know this sounds corny, but the more you practice hitting the bullseye, the more comfortable I'll be with taking you into battle."

Lana hated the sound of that. "Well, since I totally suck at darts, I'm assuming you mean that I should use my magic to do it, right?"

Clark raised his brows. "Either that or your good looks," he said. "They're pretty powerful too."

Lana gave a delicious smile. "Can I dress first?" she asked.

"Well, I don't know," he said. "If you're playing darts in a towel, I might just have to stick around."

"Tempting, but . . . no," she said. "I'd rather have you back as quick as possible."

Walking out of the house with a very heavy heart—and a satellite phone in his pocket, Clark jetted toward the Fortress of Solitude.

Back inside, Lana was feeling her own sense of unwanted solitude. She allowed herself a good long cry, then went and got dressed. When she returned to the "Grand Hangout" Chloe was standing there.

She threw her arms around Lana and gave her a supportive squeeze. "Hey, did I ever tell you how awesome it is to have two superheroes for friends?" she asked.

Lana laughed through her tears. "No, somehow I think we've skipped over that aspect of our relationship," she said. "But I definitely don't fit in the same category as Clark."

"Technically, no one does," Chloe said. "Which is exactly why he needs you so much, Lana."

Lana smiled. "Thanks, Chlo. I'm feeling a bit overwhelmed right now," she said. "But I'll probably feel better after I complete Clark's assignment—which is to play darts."

"Darts?" Chloe asked, knowing that Lana's dart skills certainly weren't going to cheer anyone up.

Lana walked over and picked up the darts, lining them up in her flat palm.

"Okaaaaaay, that's not how you hold a dart, Lana—" Chloe started, then said—when they went zooming across the room, "Unless you're a witch, I suppose! Nice shot!"

Lana grinned, having hit the board with all but one, which stuck in the carpet—way off course. "Whoops! Maybe I'll try it one at a time."

Over the next two hours, Chloe encouraged Lana's efforts, which were getting the darts closer and closer to the center. Lana finally collapsed on the couch. "How am I going to fight an alien when I can't keep my strength while flinging darts?"

Chloe could truly see how exhausting it was for her—Lana's face looked drained of all energy. "You've been at it for hours, Lana. And it's probably like working out," she said. "It just takes some time to build up the stamina for it."

Lana nodded. "Well, I feel like I've got the trajectory part down," she said. "I think I need something bigger to play with."

"Like a hummer?" Chloe asked, seeing Jimmy pull in the drive.

"Probably not yet, but maybe I'll go for a walk and find something more challenging to toss around," Lana said.

Jimmy walked in with a smile and Chinese take-out. "Yummmm," both girls said.

Chloe gave him a kiss, not seeming a bit shy about it which made Lana happy. She then turned around and smiled at Lana, thinking that it might have shocked her. Lana played the part, raising her brows like, 'wow! I had no idea!' She thought it was better than saying, 'Sorry, Chloe, it's old news—Clark and I were in the closet for your whole little kiss-a-thon last night.'

They all went to the kitchen with their food, and Jimmy asked, "Where's Clark?"

Chloe and Lana looked at each other, taken off guard. "He, uhh, had to talk to his parents," Lana said.

"But I had the Hummer," Jimmy said. "How'd he get to them."

Lana held up her satellite phone, suggesting he was just talking to them on the phone, without having to lie. "He's outside—needed some privacy."

Jimmy nodded, and Chloe was relieved she didn't have to lie to him either. Keeping Clark's secret from the world was one thing, but keeping it from someone she thought she may be falling in love with was totally different. Now she finally knew how Clark felt. It sucked to have to make stuff up all the time—or twist the truth.

"Well, I made great progress today," Jimmy said, taking a thick file from a briefcase. "My dad's guys inside Luthor Corp snatched the file we needed, and are repairing the machine that was originally used, so we have all we need—except for one thing—meteor rock." He said it like that might be a major set back.

Both girls laughed. "No problem!" Chloe said. "That will only take a short trip to Smallville to find as much as you'd like."

Jimmy was definitely happy to hear that. "Good, then I could use just a little more time to make sure it will work like I hope, then we'll be set to go," he said. "Oh, and umm, how exactly do we plan on inviting our little friend Lex to his transformation party?"

"Uhhh," was all the response Jimmy got.

"Yeah, minor detail, I guess," he said, scrunching up his face, and making Chloe once again think he was adorable. "Has Clark mentioned an idea?"

Lana laughed. "Clark's the master of crazy plans, he'll think of the prefect way to lure Lex," she said, hoping it was true. It was hard for her to imagine Clark even thinking about Lex right now though, he had so much more on his mind. Funny how power-sucking aliens can put life's little tiffs into perspective.

Jimmy and Chloe went off to figure out the techy stuff, and Lana went for her walk. She started off small, with fallen branches, then moved on to heavier logs—which she could only lift a few feet off the ground. But she got pretty good and throwing them quite a ways. She still didn't feel like she had enough force behind it though.

She knew her powers were strongly connected to her emotions, so she closed her eyes and tried to picture what this Klax-Ar must look like—and how she'd feel if he were coming after Clark. She felt the fear and anger bubbling inside her—compacted by the love she had for the one man she'd ever wanted to be with—then opened her eyes and sent a log hauling through the air, where it rammed another thick tree and knocked it right over.

Lana brushed her hands together, smiling. "Sorry, I'm not in the mood to save the rain forest today," she said, looking down at the tree. "I've gotta help my boyfriend save the planet."

Walking back toward the house, she laughed at her sudden desire to commune with nature—not exactly the Greenpeace way, but whatever. When she got back inside—she knew exactly what to do next.

She found Chloe and Jimmy, and said. "I know it's only seven, but I'm exhausted after my walk," she said. "Will you please tell Clark to wake me up when he gets back?"

Jimmy gave her a funny look. "Is he still on the phone with his parents?"

She smiled. "They've got a lot to talk about," she said, then went down the hall and curled up beneath her covers.

When Lana had finally slipped into Isobel's world, she and Kal were already knocking on her head of staff's door to get Marguerite. They stood there for a moment, with no answer, then heard Marguerite cry. Isobel opened the door, and they both rushed in, finding Stephan on the floor, sweating and unconscious.

"He's burning up!" Isa said, dropping to him and feeling his head.

"Grandpappy sick," Marguerite said, wailing and holding onto his hand.

Isa's blood felt to be seeping out of her as she turned and looked to her daughter. "Kal, get her out of here, please," she said, starting to weep. "It might already be too late!"

Kal took Marguerite in his arms, and she clutched onto him. "It's all right, Marg, Papa's here," he said, rubbing her back and kissing her head. "Too late for what?"

Part 69:

"It's the black death," Isa said, barely able to manage it as she reached out to feel his swollen throat. "I know the signs, we must leave." She stood and Kal cradled her into his other arm. "Goodbye, Stephan," Isa said softly.

"Isn't there anything we can do to help him?" he asked.

"No," she said, heaving with the pain of losing Stephan, but also at the thought of Marguerite being with him for so many hours—she was surely exposed. "Not after he loses consciousness. He's gone."

A harsh pounding at the door startled them just as Kal was about to turn the knob.

"Open up! We search for the witch, Countess Isobel Theroux!"

"Take Marg into the other room, and don't come out for anything," Kal whispered to Isa.

Isa obeyed immediately, attempting to calm Marg enough to stop her crying. But she wasn't even able to stop her own tears.

Kal thought the best strategy was to play dumb, so he opened the door with a sorrowful expression. "Gentlemen, please," he said to the four angry men. "I've just lost my uncle to the black death—must you—"

"Liar!" one of the men shouted, pointing down to Stephan on the floor. "The old man's faking—I saw the woman walk in here only a moment ago! With you!"

The men all shouted, rushing at Kal, who stood as still as Gibraltar itself, halting them in their tracks as they pushed and shoved against him. "You don't want to see my angry side—leave now!" he shouted.

They stepped back and three more men with torches came between them. "Then you'll burn in hell with her and her little brat!" one of them said.

That was it. "You want to play with fire? Let's play!" he said, focusing on a wagon on the other side of the street and blowing it up with his heat vision. He then super-sped to their three torches and put them out with his hands before they even knew he'd moved.

"He's a dark wizard, the same as she!" one shouted. "Seize him!" The all ran at him again, but Kal knocked them two at a time across the street, leaving them moaning in agony.

Kal then heard Isa screaming in hysterics. He raced in to find that one of the men had snuck past him and was holding Isa and Marg at knifepoint. He moved as fast as he ever had, grabbed the man before he even blinked, and tossed him so hard he went right through the roof, leaving a gaping hole. "Hold on, Isa, tightly," he said.

Isa gripped onto him, and Kal threw his arms around both she and Marg, and shot through the hole in the roof, soaring into the sky and leaving Marg and Isa without breath to scream any longer.

As he approached Isobel's manor, it was clear to see that there would be nothing to gather for their journey—her manor, the barn, and all the out buildings were engulfed in flames. It was then that Isa managed to wail once more. "Why! Why must they do this? I have done NOTHING to them!"

Kal had no words for such cruelty, such evil. He'd never seen this level of hatred or ignorance on Krypton. How could humans be so utterly barbaric? "I'm so sorry, Isa," he whispered as they landed by the lake, as far from the smoke as Kal could manage. "We'll find a place where we'll be safe."

"Then we must leave now! They'll be back! They always come back," she said, weeping onto him.

He nodded, then handed Marg to her. "I have to get the stone from the barn—"

"What barn?" she shouted. "It's nearly ashes!"

"It will still be there," he said, speeding to the barn, which was barley more than a few standing sticks of timber. He used his x-ray vision to search for the stone, finding it quickly.

When he reached the girls again, he still had the stone in his hand—it was so hot it would've burned through his pocket. He went to the lake and submerged the stone, causing billows of steam to rise from the water.

"What IS that?" Isa finally had the sense to ask, looking at the mysterious rock.

"It's the stone of transference—the element of water," he said. "I can't leave it here. It's the most dangerously powerful of all the stones."

She looked between he and the breathtaking element. "How could it be so dangerous?"

"Let's get somewhere safe, and I'll tell you," he said, taking both she and Marg back into the smoky sky.

They weren't too far before Marg stopped looking around in awe and rested against Kal's shoulder, closing her eyes. "Papa loves you, Marg," Kal said, kissing the top of her head and causing her little smile to appear for the first time in several hours. "Papa's gonna keep you safe, baby."

"Where are we going, Kal?" Isa asked.

He shook his head. "I'm not sure. You couldn't survive on Krypton," he said, feeling completely confused and helpless.

"Let's go South for a while," she said, being the only other part of France that she was familiar with besides Paris—where she knew she couldn't return. "Then we'll rest and decide what to do."

An while later, Kal landed in a wooded area, where there was lush grass to rest upon. They settled under the cover of trees, and watched in silence as the sun dipped below the horizon. Though they had no home, they were at least together, and for a moment that's all they needed. But it wouldn't be that way for long.

"Kal, I'm worried about Marguerite," Isa said. "She was with Stephan for so long. And it hit him so fast. I thought he was a little flushed when I left her, but he seemed in high spirits."

He nodded, looking down to the sleeping child in his arms. "She feels so much like my own," he said. "I never knew I could love as much as I do." He turned and kissed Isa. "Both of you."

"I love you, Kal," she said. "And I never want to spend another moment of my life without you."

"We'll never be apart," Kal promised, lying Marg in the soft grass, and taking Isa in his arms instead.

After a time of delight, which Isa never imagined she could ever feel again after the terrifying day, she said, "May I see that stone again? It's the most curious thing I've ever laid eyes upon."

Kal laughed. "That's exactly what I think of little Marg," he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling the stone from it. He opened his palm, the black stone reflecting the moon's soft light. Isa reached to touch it. "No!" Kal said, causing her to jump. "Oh, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to scare you Isa—I should've explained before I took it from my pocket."

She pulled back, realizing the consequences must have been dire for Kal to panic like that. "What would happen to me?"

"There's a possibility of many things," he said. "It would depend up on your thoughts at the moment."

Isa shook her head in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"As I said before, this is the stone of transference," Kal answered. "If we touched it at the same time, our souls could actually exchange bodies if one of us so desired."

She tipped her head. "Kal," she said skeptically, "I've seen many things, but—"

"It's true," he said. "I've seen it happen—in the record of another's memory. And I've seen more of its powers as well."

"As in what?" she asked, her doubt easing. He'd never lied to her before.

"It can transfer the abilities and knowledge of one person to another," he said. "It can also transfer that same knowledge or power to or from an object, such as another stone, or even a book."

Isa was smiling now. "That's amazing," she said. "How is it possible?"

Kal tipped the stone in his hand, so the light would reflect off its surface again. "It's due to the element it's composed of," he said. "A special Kryptonian metal that acts as a conduit of thought—interpreting the desire of the holder and causing the thought to materialize."

It was somewhat of a wish-granter, Isa thought, which made her realize how humans could both benefit and falter because of it. "So if I were to take it in my hand, it would know of my desires and obey me?" she asked.

Kal nodded, feeling proud that she understood the ways of Krypton so well. "The other two stones have powers of their own," he said. "Perhaps you could join me in my quest to find the last one that I must relocate."

Isa smiled. It was so wonderful to receive such trust and confidence from someone. She'd not been given that courtesy many times in her life. "Do you have any idea where it might be?"

"It's the fire stone, and I believe it's in Egypt as well—not far from where I found the air stone—which I already relocated to China," he said, relieved that he'd at least done that much of his father's bidding.

"Why were two of the stones in the same location?" she asked.

He released a heavy sigh. "An Egyptian Pharaoh had gone as far as to collect two of them," he said. "And was still searching for this one, which I found hidden in the woods behind your manor." Kal held up the water stone again. "It wasn't easy to secure the air stone from him—my powers weren't as well developed then, but I managed it at last. And I would've taken the fire stone as well, but the stones cannot be with me at the same time—it's forbidden."

"Why?" Isa asked, thinking there was a lot of forbidden things Kal had to worry about. One in particular that she planned to get him to rebel against—and soon.

"It's to protect the stones from the possibility of being joined by one who they aren't meant for," he said. "If something were to happen to me, for example, the stones could be taken—and if I had two of them, or possibly even three . . . "

Isa nodded. "Then someone could take the stones and be very close to uniting them, and thus gain the power and knowledge of Kryptonian life."

"Exactly," he said, again beaming at his brilliant sweetheart. He couldn't imagine that his father Zor-El would not approve of their marriage, as lovely and understanding as she was of Kryptonian obligations and laws.

All except for one, which under the stars that night, Kal learned was the most tempting of all to break.

After a feast of forbidden fruit, Kal at last fell asleep with Isa in his arms. Though she was content in so many ways, the happenings of the day continued to play through her mind as she was attempting to sleep. She was most worried about Marguerite's health, and slipped out of Kal's arms to check on her.

Isa nearly screamed when she put her hand to her daughter's cheek, feeling her burning flesh. She went back to Kal and shook him awake. "Marguerite has the fever!"

Part 70:

Kal bolted up, rushing over to check Marg for himself. "What do we do, Isa?" he asked. "There must be something. There has to be!"

They were both trembling as they tried to get Marg to respond, but she would not. Isa clutched Marg to her chest, rocking back and forth. "Hold on, baby. Hold on. You'll be all right," she cried. "Kal, I can't lose her, please, please . . . "

He put his arms around both girls, running his fingers through Marg's soft curls, and crying every bit as hard as Isa. "Are you sure, Isa? Are you absolutely certain that there is no Earthly way to save her?"

Isa nodded. "Kal, you told me that Krypton has the knowledge to heal any sickness," she said. "You must take her there! You must try to save her!"

He shook his head, wishing it were possible. "She wouldn't make it," he said. "A human body couldn't handle the journey."

Isa wailed, holding Marg all the tighter. "Then give me your stone!"

Kal pulled back. "Why?" he asked in horror.

"Kal, I'm begging you, I must switch souls with her," she said. "Perhaps I can revive her body—fight for her flesh to stay alive."

He was stunned that she'd thought of that. "Isa, I can't let you do that—"

"Because it's FORBIDDEN?" she shouted angrily. "If you love either of us, you'll give Marg this chance to live!" She gripped him again, crying onto his chest. "Oh, I'm so, so, sorry, I know you do, please, please, please . . . help her, help me."

He took Isa's face in his hands. "What if it doesn't work? What if Marg's body continues to fail, with you inside of her?" he asked. "There would be no way to reverse the souls, Marg's soul—though it would be in your body—would not be capable of understanding what I would ask of her . . . to grip the stone and retransfer your souls to their proper bodies."

"Then you must let me die!" Isa said. "She's my baby, Kal. She has so much to live for. With you, I've had all I've ever wanted . . . I can go. She must be healed, please . . . "

Kal backed away and stood, slipping his hand inside his pocket to grip the stone. He would not let her do this—he could not give up one for the other. "There may be another way, Isa," he said, turning back and hoping he was doing the right thing. "I just don't know if I could return in time—I must get the fire stone in Egypt. It has the power to heal Kryptonians, perhaps it could do the same for her."

"Will you not give me the stone of transference?" she asked, already knowing the answer the moment he stood and walked away from her.

He shook his head slowly. "I can't do it Isa. I love Marg so very much, but we don't know what will happen. I can't lose both of you."

She looked down, weeping, then gave one nod. "Then take her with you. She could receive the aid of the stone so much sooner," she said. "You can get her there much faster without me."

His eyes raised, relieved that she saw the wisdom in that. "I think that would be best," he said, certain the Pharaoh had hidden the fire stone in a similar manner as the air stone, which would be simple for him to obtain now that his abilities were so much more advanced. "Where will you go?"

"We're not far from where I was raised, Castelnau-de-Montmiral," she said, brushing her hand across her little Marguerite's face and pleading with heaven to be able to hold her again. "I have some friends who will shelter me."

"Then I'll see that you're safe first," he said, walking over and helping her up. "But we must hurry."

It was only ten minutes until they arrived at the home of Isa's childhood friends. Nothing could have compelled her to seek refuge with her mother—only a few homes away.

Every moment was critical for Marg's survival, so the goodbyes had to be done quickly. Kal used his x-ray vision to check inside the home, confirming that there were two young women asleep in beds, then he held onto Isa, kissing her. "You and Marg are my family now, Isa," he said. "I will never leave you again after this, ever. We'll run to the far corners of the world to escape anyone who attempts to keep us apart. I love you with all my soul."

She returned his kisses, then buried her face against him. "No matter what happens to Marguerite, Kal," she said. "I'll know you did all you could. I'm so sorry I doubted you. I'll be here when you return . . . I pray Marg will be healed . . . " she stopped to try to find air " . . . but you and I shall always have one another."

Isa took Marguerite one last time, holding her against her chest. "Please, little Marggie, Mama loves you. Fight, darling. Come back to me."

As Kal took Marg from her arms, Isa fell to the ground, all her strength gone. All she had left was hope, and it was not strong enough to sustain her. Kal bent over, lifting her chin. "Isa, I need your help. I cannot take the water stone with me," he said, and having the faith that she would not reach out to Marg with it, he took the stone from his pocket, dropping it directly into hers. "You must hide this, and tell no one of its existence. I'll return as soon as I can. I don't know how fast I'll be able to travel with Marg. Please, please, stay safe. I do love you my sweet Isa."

He kissed the top of her head, and she looked up one last time. "I'll be waiting," she said, then again dropped her head in anguish. "I love you."

Kal hesitated, then knew she wouldn't go inside until he was gone, so he soared into the air, but waited just out of site until he saw her stumble to the door and be welcomed in by the residents.

"Isobel!" a young girl cried, taking hold of her. "Brianna, fetch some water! Isobel is ill."

Isa could not speak for several minutes after they'd lowered her to a bed and wiped her face with a cold damp cloth. "Thank you, Madelyn," she said, her voice hoarse as she could barely make out their shapes in the dim candlelight. She nodded to Brianna. "Thank you so much."

"We've not seen you in so very long," Brianna said. "Why have you come here in such need, rather than to your home?"

Isobel looked past them, unable to meet their eyes. "Can you not guess?"

They both nodded, their gazes falling. "It's getting worse each day, Isobel," Madelyn said. "Dark magic is all your mother practices these days. She says it's to stave off the threat of the Sorcerer who is preying on the souls of witches to claim all power for himself."

"Have either of you developed your powers?" Isobel asked.

They both shrugged, looking a bit ashamed. "Just enough that under your mother's guidance we've learned to protect ourselves," Brianna said. "But we don't practice it unless we must. Witch hunters are still rampant in these parts. We lose someone each week."

Madelyn nodded. "It's awful. But they only seem to capture those who are from witching families, but don't practice witchcraft," she said. "That's why we went to your mother for help—to protect ourselves."

Isa's eyes widened, she'd felt the signs in herself—the burning in her arms—but had always repressed it. "They only burn those who have not sought their powers? Like myself?" she said, only seeing the strangeness of that when the words left her lips. Could there be another reason why this was happening? Why had these witch hunters gone so far out of their way to find those who had sworn off the evil—who were not a threat to them?

Brianna took Isa's hand. "Yes, it's been quite consistent so far," she said. "Perhaps it would be best if you spoke with your mother, you should have the protection as well, at least while you're here."

Isa shook her head adamantly. "Absolutely not," she said. "Please do not, I beg you, let her know that I'm here. I won't be a burden to you long . . . " Isa started weeping again " . . . only until my husband and child return for me."

"You've remarried?" Madelyn asked.

"Yes," Isa said, feeling it was just the same as if she was married to Kal. "My husband has taken my daughter to . . . a healer. She's ill."

They both stroked Isa's hair. "I'm sure you'll be back with them soon," Brianna said, soothing Isa until she at last drifted off for the remaining few hours of the night—her last of this century.

Part 71:

Isa opened her eyes in the morning, swollen and burning from her tears. All moisture felt to be drained from them, but as she lay there thinking of Kal and Marguerite, drops fell once again.

She rolled to her side to catch a glimpse of Madelyn and Brianna—still sleeping, and felt the stone in her pocket. She jolted straight up, having completely forgot about it last night. She then recalled Kal's words to keep it safe. Slipping from bed and tiptoeing out of the bedroom, she stood in the main area of the small home—looking everywhere for a place to hide it.

Finding nowhere that seemed reasonable, she went out the kitchen door and into the small yard behind the home. The garden was bordered with several rocks, some of them almost boulder size—where was Kal when she needed him, she thought with a smile, then chilled when she imagined him with a limp and lifeless Marg in his arms.

Isa dropped to her knees, the sobs returning as she pushed over the largest rock she could move, and dug as deep as she could with a broken branch into the garden soil. She wrapped the stone in full green leaves, then placed it in the narrow hole.

After covering the spot again, she started to roll the rock back, but stopped when she saw something that made her shudder with warmth. A tiny snail was crawling beside her. She picked it up, smiling through her tears as she remembered the moment with her little Marguerite in the garden not long ago.

"Where do you do your cooking in that small home of yours, little snail?" she asked it, wanting to keep the snail in her hand as long as possible. She looked up to heaven. "Please, please, give my child a renewed breath of life. And bring back my sweet Kal-El, the man I have always pleaded for you to send to me."

"Isobel," she heard, coming from the house. "Isobel, where are you?"

Isa replaced the snail and rock quickly, then stood and brushed off her dress. "I'm here," she said, moving to the well. "Fetching some water." She dropped the bucket and gripped the rope.

Brianna came to the doorway. "What a darling," she said. "Let me help you, this well can be quite stubborn."

When the girls returned with the water, they found Madelyn searching through cupboards. "What fine hostesses we are, Isobel," she said. "I have hardly a crumb to feed you."

Brianna shook her head. "That's my fault. I was unable to make it to the market yesterday, I'm deeply sorry."

Madelyn put a hand on her hip. "It's hard to get anything at all done with the threat of the Sorcerer to frighten us out of our minds," she said.

Isa looked between the two of them, studying the genuine fear in their eyes. "What exactly does my mother plan to do about the Sorcerer?" she asked. "From the sound of it, she's started some sort of a quest against him."

"Very much so," Brianna said. "And as horrifying as it is to witness your mother's methods of magic—the very darkest I've seen—she's our only hope against him."

Madelyn nodded. "In order to fight evil, she says she must first understand it. She plans to rid the world of the curse of his bloodline—for as you know, a Sorcerer's powers pass through generations of his family, only appearing every few hundred years in a chosen heir. But when one appears, common witches such as ourselves are almost driven to extinction."

Isa nodded, having known this since she was a child. Her mother was indeed fixated upon dark magic and its source—of which Sorcerers had the greatest of all talent with. Though she did not mention it to her friends, she felt her mother was probably more interested in the Sorcerer's secrets to magic, however, than protecting common witches. Her mother always had selfish motives, disguised in packages of kindness. Isa had learned that the hard way.

"There must be a way to bring down the Sorcerer," Brianna said. "But I cannot imagine how. He's taken the souls of so many witches, that it's rumored that he is the most powerful of all beings."

Madelyn shuddered. "Oh, stop this talk," she said. "Make your way to the market before our dear Isobel's tummy turns inside out with hunger."

"Very well," Brianna said, retrieving a satchel and making her way to the front door. "I'll be back shortly."

"Thank you so much," Isobel said. "For everything. You've both been so kind."

Once Brianna was gone, Isa and Madelyn sat at the table. Madelyn probed about Isa's new husband and Isa gushed over Kal. "I never imagined being so happy in all my life," she said. "He truly understands and loves every piece of who I am."

"I'm so happy for you," Madelyn said, taking Isa's hand. "You deserve such a man. You've always been a wonderful person—there's not an ounce of the devil in you."

Isa laughed. "Well I hope not," she said. "But still, I'm not sure how anyone can truly deserve to be loved as much as Kal loves me. And then there's my sweet little Marguerite—it gives me butterflies at the very thought of her—"

The front door flew open with a bang, and both girls jolted in their chairs. Madelyn screamed, but the air was gone out of Isa's lungs before she even had the chance.

Magistrate Wilkins was standing there with a huge grin, with someone just behind him in a long hooded cloak that covered every inch of them. "You were correct, Master," he said. "Our little bird has flown to safety with her friends rather than her pitiful family."

Isa's blood turned ice cold as the cloaked figure stepped forward, with Wilkins shutting the door behind them. There was a shadow of evil and darkness in the room, and Isa knew right away that Wilkins was not the typical witch hunter he appeared to be—he worked for the Sorcerer, who stood at his side.

"It's him," Madelyn whispered, her face as white as milk.

Isa's heart stopped beating in her chest, feeling these were sure to be the last moments of her life—she starting sobbing at the thought of not seeing Kal and Marguerite ever again. She wanted to scream out for Kal in case he was anywhere near, but that was impossible—his journey could have only been half completed at best by now. Had he saved Marg? Were they returning already—she was determined to believe so—to live.

The Sorcerer stirred, reaching for his hood and causing yet another chill of evil to spill over Isa.

"Only ignorant fools believe those with the greatest of powers are men," a woman's voice said as the hood was lowered—revealing a beautiful, yet menacing woman.

"Gertrude!" both Isa and Madelyn said together. Gertrude was known to be an blood-thirsty witch hunter—but how could SHE be the Sorcerer?

Gertrude laughed. "Don't look so shocked, my darlings," she said, reaching her hand forth and twisting it—sending Madelyn to the floor without coming even close to her.

Isa screamed now, terrified even more as her friend trembled, then lay unconscious. "Why must you do this, Gertrude? She's done nothing to—" Gertrude came closer to Isa, her long fingernails within an inch of Isa's face.

"It's nothing she's done, dear Isobel," she said. "It's what YOU have done, what YOU are that has put her life in such peril. You're the daughter of the most powerful of all witches, yet you have the purest of all souls—I can almost taste your innocence."

"No, that's not—" Isa tried to say.

"Your mother herself is of no good to me at all—she's corrupted by selfishness and pride. I must admit to a little secret of mine though—I allow witches like her to live that they may continue to stir the anger of the mobs, who make it quite easy for me to find and burn those that I must. No, dear girl your mother is of no good to me, but you . . . "

Isa swallowed, trying to look up at her. "I am of no use to you either," she said. "I've never practiced magic, I can do nothing for you."

Gertrude sniggered again, glancing to Wilkins. "Isn't this child sweet?" she said. "She shall be the most valuable of all my prizes."

"What do you—" Isa tried to speak again, but Gertrude cut off her voice with a mere smile in her direction.

"I shall ask the questions—and you shall give the answers," Gertrude said, allowing Isa to breathe again. "Beginning with telling me where you've hidden your daughter."

Isa shook her head, a great shower of tears falling from her cheeks. "I haven't hidden her," she said. "She's . . . " Isa took a deep breath, feeling the pain of the possible truth, "she died from the black death. Just yesterday."

Gertrude watched Isa for a few moments, appearing as though she was evaluating her. "Perhaps she speaks the truth, Wilkins," she said. "Which will make this precious kill of mine all the better. Her love is so pure, and painfully fresh."

Part 72:

Isa grabbed onto Gertrude's hand, feeling a shock that tipped her backward—her chair toppling over and spilling her onto the floor. "Please, I beg of you! I have nothing to offer!"

"Oh, but you do, my dear," Gertrude said, standing over her. "You have the greatest of all gifts. The most delicate and priceless power of all is that of a witch who has fought off the temptation to use the magic within her. Once magic escapes a soul, it is of no good to me—I must take the power in its purest form. From one of innocence—one who has learned to love, which you clearly have, or you would not be wailing as you are."

"Take my magic then, please!" Isa said. "Take it and leave me."

Both Gertrude and Wilkins burst with cold laughter. "Oh it's not enough to take your magic, you foolish girl," Gertrude said, pulling Isa up by the throat—though she was still not touching her. "I must take your SOUL! I must take all that is good from you. I must rob you of life's happiest moments. I shall take every ounce of compassion and kindness you have. You shall be left with no memory of anyone you love—for love is the strongest of all forces, one that drives even the GOOD to seek for revenge, to kill those who threaten those dear to them. Imagine what it will do for ME!" She bent over, getting right in Isa's face. "Yes, you shall be left a cold, heartless shell of who you once were. And I shall burn that shell by fire to seal your innocence within me."

Isa at last felt the power to scream. "Kal!" she bellowed, hoping that by some divine miracle he that was close enough to hear her. "KAL!"

Gertrude looked at Wilkins and he nodded. "That's the man who revealed the power of the stones to her," he said.

She turned back to Isa. "Not only will you give me your soul, but you shall tell me all you know about the three stones of power," Gertrude said, lifting Isa upright and speaking the spell, "Monstra." Isobel knew that the word was Latin for 'obtain' which was exactly what the spell did.

A pink wisp of air left Isa's mouth, speaking the words Gertrude commanded. Against her will, she revealed what Kal told her about the stones, and of the knowledge and power one would obtain if they united them.

Gertrude smiled, and Wilkins confirmed that it was the same information he'd overheard before. She turned back to Isa, who was pale and lifeless. "Tell me where the stones are hidden," she said, again using the spell, "Monstra."

The pink wisp left Isa once more. "China, Egypt, the garden."

Wilkins perked up. "She has a garden on her country estate," he said. "They must've hidden the stone there."

Gertrude used the spell one more time to confirm that this was all Isa knew about the stones, then said, "I'm afraid, my dear, that the time has come." She then dropped her flat against the hard stone floor.

Isa looked up, her eyes pleading for mercy. "Please, I beg of you," she said over and over again, visions of Kal and Marguerite flashing through her mind. Their smiles, their voices—the deep love she felt for them. She thought of their future together as a family, the happiness she knew they'd have. She felt with all her heart that her daughter was alive—that Kal had saved her and was on his way back. "Don't do this. I beg of you, please . . . "

Gertrude's lips slipped into a thin crooked smile, and her eyes narrowed, becoming the color of hot embers. "Sterilis spiritus!" she cried, clenching her fist above Isa.

Isa screamed like she never had before—there was a sensation of knifes ripping out her insides, tearing through her skin. All her memories since Marguerite was born, all of her daughter's smiles, her coos, her first little steps flashed through her mind, then they were gone . . . Kal's eyes, his soft kisses, his words of passion and promises of forever . . . were also gone as fast as they had pierced through her mind—fast as arrows.

And then she lay there on the ground, shaking, with barely a whisper of life.

Gertrude let out a triumphant laugh. "Now burn what's left of her," she said, "and it will be finished."

Isobel's eyes fought hard to open and focus. She saw Gertrude leave, closing the door behind her, then she saw Wilkins pull a rope from his satchel.

There were no more thoughts of Kal or Marguerite, no more thoughts of what better days would come to her—she thought of only one thing—getting the stone from the garden. She had a quest to begin.

"You'll make a pretty picture—roasting alive," Magistrate Wilkins said, scowling above Isa. "Though I must admit, it's a shame to waste such a body." He continued with his foot on Isa's stomach, holding her fast against the floor as he unwound his rope.

Isa's eyes, which were scanning for a weapon to use against him, caught sight of Brianna peeking through the window. She saw her nod, her face scared, then a flash of purple light filled the room, followed by several loud bangs.

When Isa recovered from the attack, she saw that Wilkins had been blown across the room—the front door on top of him—and he was unconscious.

"I warned you, Isobel," a voice said, causing her to feel a familiar sense of loathing for one she cared nothing for. "If you did not embrace your magic, it would cost you dearly."

Isobel turned her head slowly, as she still lay on the floor, to look at the woman. "You haven't changed a bit since I last saw you, Mother."

"More than you know," she said, staring down at her with a look of wicked malice—making Isobel think she may have preferred Wilkin's putrid sneer instead. "My powers have increased ten-fold."

As Isobel attempted to pull herself up, Brianna stooped beside her to assist. "I saw the Sorcerer leave and ran to fetch the only one who could help," she said, almost sounding regretful that she had to stoop so low.

The words "thank you" didn't even cross Isobel's mind—she had other things to mull over as she peered around the room.

Facing her mother as she stood with a false smile of gratitude, she said, "Mother, I know of a way to defeat the Sorcerer. Come with me." She headed toward the back door.

Her mother laughed. "I doubt you could bake bread, Isobel," she said, her voice as hostile and demeaning as it had always been, "let alone discover a means to defeat the Sorcerer."

Isobel glanced over her shoulder as she opened the door. "Very well, have your doubts," she said. "But I shall seek revenge for myself."

It did not take long for her mother to give into her mounting curiosity, and she followed Isa out to the garden, finding her pulling something from within the earth.

Isobel gripped the bundle of leaves, holding it in her hand in awe. She recalled nothing of how she gained the knowledge about the stones, only that they would give her power beyond comprehension—that she could not only wipe out the Sorcerer's blood line, but obtain all other means of power and wealth that she so wished.

"What is it?" Isobel's mother asked, watching as she removed the leaves one at a time.

"A great stone of power," Isobel said. "One that will bring both angels and demons to their knees."

Still lowered in the garden soil, she revealed the black stone, shimmering in the sun. Isobel received the precise reaction she sought from her mother—her lips parted, and her eyes widened.

"Give that to me," she said. "You do not have the knowledge or ability to appreciate such a treasure."

"You're right, Mother," Isa said, stretching out her hand with the stone in it. "I don't."

When her mother's hand came within a few inches of the stone, Isobel made her move. She clasped their hands together, with the stone between them, and called upon the stone to transfer all of her mother's powers and knowledge into her own soul.

Her mother cried out in agony, but was unable to break the bond. She trembled—her eyes rolling back as she fell to her knees, facing Isa.

Isobel stood when she felt a rush of white-hot energy spinning inside her, and placed the stone in her pocket. "Aren't you proud, Mother?" she asked, knocking her to the ground with a shock that shot sparks through Isobel's arm—giving her a piercing sensation of pleasure. "I've finally embraced my magic—or YOURS, I should say."

"What have you done?" her mother asked in a hoarse whisper, now on her back in agony.

"Nothing you don't deserve," Isobel answered, then kicked dirt in her mother's face and walked away.

When she entered the house, she found Brianna helping Madeline up. "Come, girls," she said with an unfamiliar sense of smug confidence. "I've got a bit of a busy day planned for us."

The girls looked at her with wide, confused eyes as they walked through the empty door frame that was once the front entrance. "What do you mean?" Brianna asked. "It's not safe to be seen, Isobel! The Sorcerer will find you, she'll find all of us!"

Isobel turned and gave them an evil grin. "If you join me, you shall never have to worry about the Sorcerer again," she said, feeling that she would need accomplices—or at least decoys, if she was to find the other two stones. "And my mother has, well, let's just say she's encouraged me to pick up where she left off." Or dropped off, she thought to add with a laugh. "But we're going to need that handy little spell book of hers."

"Her spell book?" Madeline asked with a gasp. "But she's never let anyone near it. It's filled with dark magic, Isobel, you'll get hurt."

Isobel had led them a few doors down, to her mother's house. "The book will cause pain for many people," she said. "But we will not be among them."

Part 73:

Isobel walked through the small, cold rooms of her childhood home—searching for where her mother hides her most prized belongings. The two girls at her side were making far too much noise, and she shushed them . . . closing her eyes and extending her arms to call out to the spell book.

Her soul was as black as the most moonless of nights—Gertrude had extracted every wisp of goodness, love and mercy out of her soul . . . every ounce of happiness. Only hatred, guile and revenge remained—something all humans have within them, which can take over their very being if stronger emotions cannot keep evil at bay.

Isobel continued to meditate as the girls looked on—her eyes were closed, her hands trembling . . . as she used her mother's tremendous powers to search the home only in her mind. At last, a section of the stone wall illuminated, and Isobel sighed, walking toward the space with a thin smile.

"Tsk tsk, Mother dearest," she said, summoning the stones out of the wall one at a time. "It only took me but a moment."

Isobel reached into the gap and removed the spell book, the weight of it filling her soul—becoming part of her. As she turned the cover, a life-giving breath escaped from it and passed into Isobel. She was its master now.

Madelyn and Brianna watched in awe. They glanced between one another and Isobel, wondering when she had taken on this new and mysteriously-evil persona. Wherever it had come from, they felt safe and confident with her. Isobel's mother never included them in her plans—they were honored to be part of something so monumental and important—to rid the world of the consuming power of the Sorcerer—and not just Gertrude, but every potential heir who would follow.

"This book is all we need to find the stones," Isobel said. "It seeks out power and embodies it within itself. It will guide us in China and Egypt—as the North Star guides tempest-tossed sailors home."

Brianna nodded. "This is our destiny, Isobel," she said.

"To bring an end to the persecution of our people," Madelyn added.

Isobel smiled at their noble intentions—which she planned to uphold for her own revengeful purposes, but she had no desire to stop at something so meager. Not when the world could be her slave.

As she turned the book's pages, looking for the Seeker's Spell . . . her mother's knowledge guided her and she knew exactly what to do when she found it. "Capto Dominitus," she said, sending the stone out of her pocket and into her hand.

Brianna and Madelyn both gasped—at both the stone, and the means in which Isobel summoned it. "Isobel, your spell requested absolute power—is that what this stone will give us?" Brianna asked.

She could not resist a snide laugh. "US?" she thought. The power would be held by only her, but they were much too sweet and naive to let that trouble their pretty heads right then. "Yes, the spell put the stone right into my hands—and it shall do the same when we reach the other stones," she said, knowing it was time to drop a few more crumbs. "When we combine all three, we shall have more power than any army. We will extinguish the bloodline of the Sorcerer."

"We will follow you anywhere, Isobel," Madelyn said.

"Then let us begin," she said, catching a glimpse of her clothes as she strode past a looking glass—startled by her own mangy appearance. She gave a throaty laugh. "But certainly not in these rags."

Most girls of Isobel's age wouldn't have ever considered raiding their mother's closet—but Isobel didn't have the typical mother. Her closet was filled with young and sultry temptations—just what every naughty witch deserves. Isobel chose a ruby-colored dress, slinky and revealing. "Much better," she said after changing, leaving Madelyn and Brianna with dropped jaws.

Isobel sent Madelyn to peek out the back door of her mother's home, and gave Brianna the task of finding a satchel to carry the spell book. It was good to hold all the power, she thought, sighing as she considered her future—the possessor of the most glorious gifts and knowledge the universe could offer. It would be all hers to do with as she wished.

"The back way is clear," Madelyn said, just as Brianna was returning with a satchel.

"Just one more thing, then," Isobel said, selecting a blood-red cloak from her mother's closet. "I believe I may elicit a bit too much attention unless I cover up for now." Isobel dressed in the cloak, then placed the spell book in the bag, and slung it over her shoulder.

"I can carry that for you," Brianna said.

"Or the stone," Madelyn suggested.

"No!" Isobel said, her tone so demanding that the girls instantly knew they should not make noise unless asked to do so.

The three of them left through the back door—they would have to make it to the docks before sunset, or every ship would already be parted. It did not matter where the ship would be sailing to, Isobel had the means of persuading the captain in another direction—first to Egypt, then to China. "Another reason to wear a great dress," Isobel mused to herself.

After creeping through back alleys and at last reaching the docks, Isobel raised her hand for the girls to stop so she could assess what had to be done. They were hiding behind the walls of a convent—innocent nuns just on the other side of the stone. What a vast contradiction to all she was now—how she wanted to be.

Deciding that she would first try to board the boat the civil way, to avoid unwanted attention, she sent the girls to persuade free boarding passes out of the sailors.

Cloaked, and with her back against the convent wall, Isobel reached into her pocket to grip the stone. The sooner they were on that ship, the better. She knew Gertrude was much more powerful than she—she had her mother's knowledge of magic to realize that. There would be no defense against her—no spell strong enough to protect herself or the stone from the power of the Sorcerer. Or Sorceress, she thought—finding it mildly amusing that so many had misjudged her. Women can be so very deceiving sometimes.

And so can men, Isobel soon discovered as she watched a group of them start to shout and point in Madelyn and Brianna's direction. But, the girls were too dimwitted to use their powers—panicking and running . . . running STRAIGHT toward Isobel.

"What the bloody hell?" Isobel said. "Those STUPID girls!"

Isobel's decision was quick, she raised her hands, ready to blast the bunch of them out to the sea behind them, but then the breath left her lungs—a hooded figure was among them, making her way slowly . . . taking her sweet time, because she knew there was no rush. She could have anything she wanted.

"Anything but the stone," Isobel said to herself, knowing her only chance of escape was to outrun Gertrude before she was discovered. The girls would have to suffer their fate alone.

She ran along the convent wall, searching for any entrance, any crevice to sneak through, but there was nothing. She didn't have time to climb the wall, or even use magic to propel herself over it—the mob would see her.

As she reached the front of the convent, there were nuns in black and white habits strolling through the front gardens—watching her curiously as she raced by them. Then at once, she had an idea—it was her only chance now that the mob and Gertrude were close enough to spot her.

"Sanctuary!" she cried, sprinting through the gardens, through the open doors and into the barrel-roofed cathedral. "Sanctuary!"

Nuns came running from all directions to assist her, but she continued to run, knowing they would at least give the mob pause before they blasted through them.

She had only one option, hide the stone, then come back for it later. If the mob was to seize her, at least the stone would be safe for her return—and she WOULD return, she'd somehow make sure of that.

Isobel's eyes scanned for a place to hide the stone, one in which she would remember the spot, but that others would have difficultly finding it. She didn't have much time—and she had to have some assurance of her survival.

As she continued to run the length of the cathedral, nearing the end of the pews, she grabbed the spell book out of the satchel, balanced it at the first page which opened, and shoved her hand in her pocket to grip the stone. Concentrating hard, she demanded that the stone transfer a portion of her soul into the book—that she would be immortalized, to rise again to finish her quest if Gertrude were to succeed in burning her body.

Flesh was only flesh she thought—feeling the power of the stone surge through her—but my soul shall live forever, to awaken when I call out for vengeance from my grave.

Watching as the symbol from the stone was duplicated upon the page, she slowed and turned back, hearing the noise of the mob coming through the cathedral's front doors. She held the stone in her palm, then whispered the words, "Celo Ascendo." The stone shot like an arrow straight up through the air, concealing itself on the top of the highest rafter—somewhere no one would think to look—for how could she have climbed that high? And Gertrude was still unaware that she had powers. Once they discovered that the stone was not in her garden at her country estate, however, they would retrace her steps here, and the stone had to be as safe as possible.

The mob was visible now, and among them was the cloaked figure—seeming to float toward her as she started into a full run again. At once, Isobel felt a shock within her—sending her sprawling across the floor, and smacking against a table of burning candles.

When she regained consciousness, she realized she was no longer in the cathedral, and that the mob was gone—but Gertrude was hovering above her. "You're a resilient little lass, aren't you?" she said. "You only could've escaped with a bit of magic—weak as your powers must've been, so perhaps you were able to draw them out at last. But no matter, I've done a bit of work on you while you rested—what magic might have been there, is now deep within me—weak and measly as it was."

As soon as the words were spoken, Isobel knew it was true—it was gone. All but a meager portion of which she still felt burning within a small corner of her. Perhaps it was enough to do one last spell, but it would be saved for when she knew it was needed most.

She glanced around, making Gertrude laugh. "Looking for your mother's spell book, darling?" she asked. "Don't worry, it's safe. Magistrate Wilkins is a bit of a book collector—those amateur spells are child's play for me. But soon I shall have your stones. I've already sent off ships to China and Egypt, and have some more dear friends of mine on their way to search your garden."

Isobel wanted to smile at the thought of them searching her garden—one she had only faint memories of pulling weeds from, but lacked the strength as Gertrude waved in a group of men with ropes. Gertrude was known only as a witch-hunting zealot to them, not who she truly was. It was obvious why she'd requested to be alone with Isobel—they'd never seen Gertrude perform magic before. That would blow the whole charade, which worked so very well for her.

It wasn't long before Isobel was locked in an iron carriage with Madelyn and Brianna. They asked questions about the stone, to which Isobel stayed mum, then they pleaded for her to use the powerful magic they now knew she possessed—for theirs had been stripped from them by Gertrude.

Isobel wished for them to stay calm, that she may think through what was necessary. "They've taken the book and with it our powers," she said, promising them there would be a way back to life if they were to fall that night—which she was now certain they would.

When the reached the fields far from the town limits, they were pulled one at a time from their cage—a mob with pitchforks and torches awaiting them. A man ripped the cloak from Isobel's body, exposing her sultry dress and confirming for the mob that only a witch would dare be so brazen.

Magistrate Wilkins was there to greet Isobel, sneering at her with the spell book in his hand. All she needed to do was get him to open to the page where the mark of the stone had been made—and she could cast her last spell.

Wilkins backhanded Isobel when she taunted him, causing the sweet taste of fresh blood to pool in her mouth—just what she needed. He insisted she expose more about the three stones of power, saying she may yet live if she cooperated, but Isobel knew that was a lie. There was only one way to save herself from eternal ruin now, and she needed the book to do it.

Isobel claimed that the information he sought was in the book, and he opened it eagerly—giving her one last moment to fire an insult. "The three stones of power shall be mine," she said. "And once I possess them, you shall tremble at my feet, and never again persecute my kind." She then spit on the symbol—sealing her mortal body, to her immortal soul.

"Animom remito," she said, using her last bit of magic to duplicate the stone's symbol upon her back, preparing for her return—one that would be made possible as she called from the grave to an heir, chosen by fate, to release her soul from darkness.

"Demon," Wilkins called her, making a good show for the mob. He worked for the true devil herself.

Isobel laughed this off as she was dragged into the stockpile of wood and tied to the stake, for Wilkins was more correct than he knew. She would rise a more powerful and venom-filled demon than he could imagine.

She continued smirking as Wilkins condemned her to the fires of hell. She spotted Gertrude in the crowd—watching Isobel with satisfaction.

She would pay—all of her bloodline would pay for what they'd done.

"Do you think this ends with a lick of flame?" Isobel said as the fires were lit. "I sleep but a while. And when the time is appointed, my heir will awaken me. And I will have vengeance!"

The flames rose, and Madelyn and Brianna cried with pain. But Isobel shrieked with wicked laughter, the fire searing thoughts of evil within her.

And then slowly, her laughter died, her body burned, and her mortal breath was gone.

But Isobel's soul remained, existing in three separate vessels . . . the pages of a book, the dark pit of an evil Sorceress . . .

. . . and in the heart of a man, who held her recovering child to his chest—searching for his dear Isa in the quiet streets of Castelnau-de-Montmiral.

Part 74:

Lana's screams pierced the still of the night—she was burning, feeling the fire as it crawled up her legs, her torso, her arms and neck.

Clark lifted her into his arms, holding her tightly as he sat on her bed. "It's okay, baby, it's okay . . . it's over, Lana," he said, repeating it several times before she finally awoke. He was sure he knew what had just happened and had been waiting for the moment ever since her dreams began.

He hadn't woken her when he returned five hours ago—at midnight, because he wanted her to get through all of Isobel's memories—what he'd discovered in the Fortress was more connected to the story of Kal and Isa than he ever realized, and he wanted to tell her about it.

"He didn't come! Kal didn't come!" were Lana's first words, clutching onto Clark and weeping. "I wanted him to save her . . . I knew there had to be something good left . . . somewhere."

Clark just nodded, rubbing her back and kissing the top of her head. He'd let her get all her feelings out before he told her what he knew.

"It was awful, Clark," she said, telling him everything from the time they found Stephan dying of the black death, until Isa was burned at the stake. "Gertrude took everything from her—all of her goodness, all of her love for Marg and Kal. ALL of it! I wanted so much to intrude, to scream out to her so she would remember them, but from the first moment Gertrude took away her memories, she didn't even have a flash of them in her mind—she wouldn't have known them, even if they'd arrived on time."

"Perhaps it was better that they didn't see her that way," he said, waiting for her response before he continued. She gave a very small nod. "Kal never knew the evil that consumed her—neither did Marg. They had nothing but fond memories of the Isa they knew."

Lana sobbed even harder, for the first time realizing that it truly was better for them to have never seen what Gertrude did to Isa—how she'd betrayed Kal by using the stone—how she planned to find the others for her own good. "How do you know this, Clark?" she asked, seeing only the outline of his face in the dark room. "Is it just a guess?"

Clark shook his head slowly. "No. I had to search as much of Kryptonian knowledge as I could this time—making it through almost all of what the stones contained," he said. "And I saw one portion that had Kal's memories, which included his life after he lost Isa."

She grabbed his arms. "Tell me, please," she said. "I knew all along that Marguerite would live, and I wanted to reveal that at Isa—to tell her to hold on, that somehow Kal could restore her soul and they could still be a family."

That wasn't too far off, Clark thought to say, but Kal probably couldn't have figured out what to do to make it possible, because he wouldn't have known what happened. However, Clark now believed that Isobel herself reversed the damage by accident—which he'd explain to Lana when the time came.

Clark smiled, which eased Lana's apprehension. "As awful as Isa's death was," he said. "The rest of the story is really pretty great—I was blown away by what I saw."

"What?" she said, glad that he had such a big smile, but she wanted to share in the happiness with him—she needed it.

He kissed her while he had the chance. "I missed you," he said.

She slapped his arm. "I missed you too, but get on with it."

"Okay, I will," he said, more anxious than even before to tell her. "Kal had an even more difficult time saving Marg than he imagined—she almost didn't make it. But he was near enough to one of the Kryptonian portals to contact a Healing Elder and gain his help."

"Someone else came from Krypton to help him?" Lana asked.

Clark nodded. "Yes, and it was someone pretty significant—someone who had quite a bit of experience with humans," he said, pausing to build suspense. She finally slapped his arm again. "You're not going to let me have any fun at all with this, are you?"

"No," she said, even though she was extremely relieved to be smiling—it felt like she hadn't done it for days—though she'd only been asleep for ten hours. "Who was it?"

"Well, his Kawatche name was Naman—the first Naman, that is, before I came along," Clark said. "But his Kryptonian name was Nim-El."

Lana's eyes grew wide. "You mean, he was the man from the stars that the Kawatche people talk about?" she asked. "The one whose children were the first skinwalkers?"

"Yep—the very same guy," he said. "When he returned to Krypton from being on Earth for so long, he took with him all he learned about humans. Kal thought he might be able to help him, and he was right. When he came through the portal, he used the stone to heal Marguerite, then taught Kal how to do the same."

"Wow," Lana said, then dropped her chin. "But he was still too late to save Isa."

"Yeah," he said, reliving Kal's memories of the night he searched for Isa in Castelnau-de-Montmiral. "But, Lana, he may have been able to save her body, but not her soul. Some evil can never be undone."

Lana nodded, feeling tears sting her eyes again. "So what happened when he returned, Clark?" she asked. "How did he find out about Isa?"

This was the part that would be difficult to hear. "He went to Brianna and Madelyn's house first, of course," Clark said. "When he couldn't find her there, he used his x-ray vision to search the homes for her, but most the people were gone—to the witch burning, I suppose." Clark didn't want to make that sound trivial, so he paused for a moment. "In the middle of his search, the stone called out to him, and he followed the signal to a convent by the riverside."

"Where he found it in the rafters," Lana said.

"Exactly—and the nuns found HIM there, too," Clark said. "Well, at least in the cathedral, holding a sobbing baby in his arms, which didn't sit too well with them. Kal had already found the stone before they entered, so he asked his first natural question—had a young woman with long dark hair been there earlier in the day."

Lana put her hand over her mouth, knowing what was coming.

Clark felt the same sense of dread in telling her. "The nuns told him of a girl who came in running for her life from a mob of witch hunters," he said. "Kal panicked, of course, saying that she was his wife—the mother of the girl he held in his arms. They felt horrible for the two of them, telling him that the mob was ferocious and blood thirsty—that Kal needed to go find her if he could—that they'd care for Marguerite. He gave Marg a kiss, saying, 'Papa will be right back,' then left the convent, his worst fear consuming him. By the time he learned from a villager where the mob had taken her, and reached the fields, his anger was every bit as hot the flames that took Isa's life."

He stopped, taking a breath that felt much heavier than any tractor. He knew there were happier things to reveal, but understood her need to know this part. "His sweetheart was gone, and all that was left was a cheering crowd—chanting that the witches were in hell where they belonged," Clark said, swallowing down a knot of emotion—for he too had seen Isa's remains along with Kal, and he could not help but imagine her as Lana.

It was hard for him to even explain what he saw, but he continued to try. "All this was done in super-speed mode—no one saw him, but what they witnessed would be talked about for generations. Kal scooped up the burning embers and propelled them into the crowd—they were all left with severe scars—giving them a grim reminder for the rest of their lives of the event they had been a part of. To protect herself, Gertrude started shooting spells in all directions, and Kal sensed her evil and knew right away that she had something to do with Isa's death. Everyone witnessed Gertrude's powers, and now knew who the true witch was. As they closed in on her, she sent people to their deaths, but not being able to see Kal as he moved so quickly around her, he picked up a blood-red cloak from the ground—holding it in his hand along with the stone of transference—then latched onto Gertrude's arm, transferring all her power into the cloak—then casting it into the fire."

"So she was completely powerless after that?" Lana asked. "What did the mob do?"

"Exactly what they did to other witches, they tied her to a fresh stake and charred the hell out of her," he said, feeling the same amount of vengeance Kal felt that night. "But nothing could bring back Isa, so revenge could only be so sweet."

Part 75:

Lana bit her lips, staying quiet for several moments and soaking it all in. "What happened when Kal returned to Marg?"

"He was of course distraught and lost, and the nuns did their best to comfort him," Clark said. "He stayed at the convent, day after day, mourning the loss of Isa, and trying to give Marg the love of her mother—which he knew he could never do properly. The nuns stepped in as much as they could, caring for both of them. And then slowly, Kal started to feel the smallest light of hope as he took Marg out into the convent's vast gardens to plant flowers, pick weeds, and play with snails. The nuns adored both of them, and more than appreciated having Kal around to do all the hard work. They offered them a permanent home, and Kal said they'd stay as long as they could. But because he worried about Krypton catching up to him, he asked if the nuns would care for Marg as their own if anything should happen."

"How long did Kal stay there?" Lana asked, having known that her ancestor, Marguerite, was raised in a convent until she was well into her teen years.

"Fifteen years," Clark said with a smile. "Marg was seventeen when they finally left."

"No way!" Lana said, the light of the morning sun now peeking through the window curtains and illuminating her face. "What about his father, Zor-El—didn't he have a fit?"

"Of course he did," Clark said. "But someone stepped in to defend him. Nim-El—who witnessed in Kal's behalf, of how much he loved Marguerite, and what a good father he was to her. For the first time, Nim-El testified to the Kryptonian council of how unhappy he'd been since he came back to Krypton, and how unjust it was for him to have ever been taken away from his family on Earth. He also showed the council Kal-El's memories of Isa, and they caved in—they allowed him to stay—under a few conditions."

"What?" Lana asked anxiously.

"First—that he continue to keep the stones safe," Clark said. "Second, that he return when Marg reached adulthood, and third . . . " he paused, still trying to grasp the far-reaching concept of this " . . . they gave Kal the charge to prepare the bloodline of the chosen one's protector."

"Marg?" Lana asked. "My role as your protector started with Marg?"

Clark nodded. "She was the only one who ever discovered Kal's abilities," he said. "But she and Kal started quite an interesting operation—they traveled the country, going on missions of mercy, they told the nuns, and healed hundreds of people with the stone—transferring his Kryptonian healing capabilities to them—learning that trick from Nim-El. The stone was always in Kal's pocket, so no one knew where his power came from—and the two of them were always cloaked—disappearing at super-speed, of course—before anyone could even thank them. It's possibly the reason why the plague decreased by a huge percentage in the early 1600's."

Kal always carried the guilt of not thinking to use the transference stone to heal Marguerite, but he hadn't had the experience that Nim-El had with the healing properties of the stones—all three of them had healing powers he said—it was only a matter of knowing how to use them. Which again, Isobel later used, without her even knowing it. It still wasn't the time to tell Lana that though.

"Umm, wow," was all Lana could say. "Did Kal and Marg have anything to do with Isobel being buried as a martyr?"

"Oh yeah," Clark answered. "The nuns heard all about Isa, and believed every word of her goodness as they remembered the frightened girl running through the cathedral—chased by an evil mob who was 'punished by God' the night she died, with awful scars to mark their sins upon their skin."

Clark and Lana relaxed in one another's arms, thinking about what they both had seen. A very tragic tale, if there ever was one, but one that Clark felt might have at last had a happy ending.

"Krypton continued to use Kal as their constant Earthly contact—having him do many things for them, including preparing the caves in Smallville for my arrival," Clark said.

"HE painted the caves?" Lana asked. "I thought that was probably Nim-El."

"Yes, the paintings were done by Nim-El," he said. "But Kal-El created the portals. With the water stone, in fact. Then when Marguerite was grown and married to a wonderful man, who Kal felt was as close to as worthy as he could be, he kept his promise to return to Krypton."

"Did he ever return to visit Marg?" Lana asked.

Clark smiled. "A few times," he said. "Which got him in a lot of trouble, but Kal wasn't too keen on following Kryptonian laws, was he?"

Lana laughed, thinking of Kal and Isa on their last night together in the forest.

Clark was glad to see her in a good mood now. It was probably a perfect time to reveal what else he suspected about Isobel. "Lana, I know that having Isobel take you over was a horrible experience . . . " he said, taking a breath to continue.

Lana shook her head. "Clark it WAS awful, I still feel that way," she said. "But now that I know what happened, I really think I'll be able to get over it. I now think of Isobel as a sweet country girl named Isa, who was in love and had a child that she adored with all her heart. What happened to her was not her fault—it was Gertrude's—so it's upon her that I now place blame."

Clark smiled. "Then are you ready to hear my theory of why Isobel left your body without accomplishing either one of the tasks she returned to do?"

Lana tipped her head, the early morning sun making her eyes sparkle. "Well, I'm certainly open to any explanation possible. She seemed pretty darn determined, and then just suddenly left—without obtaining all three stone, and without taking out the entire bloodline of Gertrude."

Clark nodded. "Yeah, which you've now confirmed were definitely her purposes for possessing you. And it's still possible, as you suspected before, that you finally had the strength to force her out . . . " he said.

"Yes, but that was just a guess, because it was only in the moment that she killed Genevieve that for the first time, I knew what was going on," Lana interrupted, feeling that she had to clarify her uncertainty. "And then, Isobel had somehow left both her powers and her memories—for no apparent reason."

He grinned again. "I think there WAS a reason for it," he said. "I think she did it on purpose, so that you'd be able to help me."

"But she considered you an enemy. And we've already established that Isobel didn't recognize you as one of Kal's relatives," she said. "Because Gertrude had taken all those memories from her."

"Then how was it possible for her to pass those memories on to you, Lana?" he asked.

Lana perked up. "I hadn't thought of that," she said, eyeing Clark curiously. "So what's this new theory of yours—you definitely have my attention."

"I told you just a few minutes ago that all the stones had healing properties, right?" he said, receiving an anxious nod from Lana. "Well, when I saw more of the knowledge contained in the stones, I learned that the air stone—the one that you found in China, which pierced Genevieve's heart, had the power to reverse wrongdoing—basically, to heal injustice."

Lana exhaled. "And?"

"And, because it pierced the heart of the Sorcerer's bloodline—the evil done by Gertrude was undone," he said.

Her eyes glossed over. "Does that mean Isa received her soul back?" she asked. "That she could then remember both Kal and Marg? And you think she may have at last recognized that you were someone like Kal and wanted me to help you?" Lana's mind was spinning with possibilities—throwing them out every which way.

Clark nodded with a smile. "I think so," he said. "My guess is that when she realized what she was doing after she killed Genevieve—she left. She didn't want the stones, and she didn't care anymore about extinguishing the bloodline of the Sorcerer."

"How would she know that would happen?" Lana asked, amazed. "That the stone would free her soul."

"I don't think she did, I think she retrieved her soul by accident," he said. "Because, for one thing, she wouldn't have ever known that Gertrude, and therefore Genevieve, were part Kryptonian, and would be affected by the stone in that way."

"WHAT?" Lana said, which was exactly what Clark expected.

"Yep. I got that information by searching for dirt on Klax-Ar—who I told you a while ago was banished to space as a criminal for destroying the passage ways between Earth and Krypton," he said. "Both Gertrude and Genevieve were descendents of the Kryptonian House of Ar, which is why I think the stone sent out some sort of a beacon to Klax-Ar when Genevieve's blood stained it."

Lana was all too familiar with Kryptonian symbols or artifacts acting as beacons. She now believed that the wicked part of Isobel had used the symbol on her tomb to call out to Lana, as her 'heir,' and convinced her to come to Paris. There was no other way to explain what had happened to her. Lana couldn't get Paris off her mind at he end of her junior year. And when she was there, she felt compelled to visit the place where Isobel was buried—even though at the time, she didn't know it was her very own ancestor.

"So that's what Jor-El was referring to the day of the meteor shower—that the stone had called out to Klax-Ar—the great danger from space?" Lana asked.

Clark let out a long, heavy breath. "Exactly. And I'm sure, because he was a scientist, he'd been working on a way to divert the capsule he was sent away in from the moment he was banished," he said. "And when the stone called out to him—he knew exactly what direction to head in."

Part 76:

That was a lot to take in for Lana, who was still trying to get used to the idea of aliens from other planets. Clark was one thing—he was the man she loved, she could accept him being from anywhere at all. But wow—there were more, and she'd witnessed Klax-Ar's spaceship herself. And unfortunately, this wasn't a sci-fi movie, it was her actual life.

"But if they were part Kryptonian, why didn't Genevieve have powers—or Jason for that matter?" Lana asked, certainly not complaining. "And HOW exactly were they part Kryptonian?"

Clark shrugged. "The power of the Sorcerer, even by Gertrude's time was only showing up every few hundred years," he said. "And their Kryptonian genes came to Earth in the same way that they skinwalkers' power did. Just as Nim-El started the line of the skinwalkers—giving humans abilities they were never meant to have, one of Klax-Ar's ancestors took his own detour to Earth during Medieval times and also had a forbidden affair. That's how the bloodline of the Sorcerer was started—again, giving powers to humans that were not meant for Earth. Professor Willowbrook told me that skinwalkers are very far and few between now. Kryptonian blood eventually fades out, but it takes hundreds of years to do so."

Lana gasped. "Clark! Gertrude had the ability to suck the power from witches," she said. "Then it can't be a coincidence that Klax-Ar has the very same ability to do that to meteor freaks, can it?"

Clark shook his head. "Nope, I don't think it's a coincidence at all," he said. "But even after searching every memory I could find from those who knew Klax-Ar, I still couldn't figure out how he does it."

"And I don't know how Gertrude did it either," Lana said, her chin dropping in frustration. "What if he's able to do the same to you, Clark? And to me as well. Then we'll be completely helpless."

Clark wasn't going to say, YEP, but it was the first word that came to his mind. "Well, he was one of the most brilliant Kryptonian scientists in history, so anything is possible. I just need some time to process all the stuff I learned about him, then hopefully something will come to me," he said, his biggest worry still being the fact that Lana was going to be there when he took on Klax-Ar. "But I don't even know what other abilities he's developed since he's been here on Earth. Mine came on slowly because my body had to grow before it was ready for them, but from what I've learned about adult Kryptonians coming to Earth—like Isa's Kal-El, and also my father, their abilities were fine-tuned in a very short period of time—usually a matter of days."

"But Clark," Lana said, placing her hands on his discouraged face. "Klax-Ar doesn't have the same experience you do with those abilities. Maybe we can outsmart him somehow."

He just gave a silent nod, deep in thought—mostly about how he was going to protect Lana while he was trying to defend his own life as well.

Clark and Lana remained talking about Klax-Ar for some time before Lana's stomach made a loud grumble and they both laughed. "I feel like I haven't eaten since the 1600's," she said.

"Let's get some breakfast, then," Clark said with a smile.

They left the room holding hands, both of them in scruffy sleeping clothes, but Lana couldn't help but think Clark looked hotter than ever. She stopped in the middle of the hallway, glanced around for prying eyes, then slammed Clark against the wall, as Isa had done to Kal the first day they met.

"Whoa," he said with a very pleased smile, as she ran her hands under his shirt and kissed his neck. "Who needs a closet when you've got a narrow hallway?"

"Let's have both in our home," Lana said, her breath warm in Clark's ear.

Clark returned her kisses. "Whatever you say, dear. You're the boss."

"Uh, huh," Lana said, then had to stop when she heard Chloe approaching, laughing hysterically as she shouted, NO WAY! YOU DID NOT!

Clark and Lana shared confused looks. "What the heck?" Lana asked, taking Clark's hand again as they walked toward Chloe's mysterious excitement.

They found her pacing back and forth in front of the couch, with Jimmy watching with wide amazed eyes.

"What's going on?" Clark asked him, because Chloe was obviously in her own world.

Jimmy shrugged. "She called her cousin to let her know she was okay, and then she started jumping up and down—no idea why."

"Well, either she's started a new exercise program," Lana said, staring at Chloe as she bounced all over the room, still shouting scattered words of disbelief, "or Lois is having a really great time in Europe."

"Oh, THAT cousin," Jimmy said. "The one with the Energizer bunny mouth—yeah, I met her once at the Daily Planet. My ears were ringing for a month."

Both Clark and Lana nodded. "Yep, that's the one," Clark said.

Finally, Chloe said goodbye to Lois and plopped down on the couch, her jaw dropped. "Oh, wow. Wow. I can't believe it," she said. "I don't even know where to begin to tell you."

"What?" everyone asked at once.

Chloe took a deep breath, let it out, then started laughing again. "LOIS IS MARRIED!"

"WHAT!" Lana and Clark said together. "TO WHO?"

Chloe dropped the phone on the couch and held up her hands. "A German guy name Hans Uchtdorf!" she said. "Oookdorf. Oh, my gosh. I can't believe it. Mrs. Lois Uchtdorf!"

Chloe's face was so red from laughing and cheering that she looked like a lobster. Neither Clark or Lana had gotten to the laughing stage though, both standing there with open mouths.

"Umm, okay," Lana said. "But she only left for Europe last week—how exactly did that happen?"

"That's what I asked," Chloe said, wiping her eyes. "They sat next to one another on the plane, and when she landed in Berlin, he offered her a ride to her hotel. And then, as she said, she forgot all about finding her sister Lucy—and that she couldn't give a 'rat's butt' where Lucy was."

Clark finally smiled. "Now THAT'S romantic," he said, secretly feeling sorry for the poor guy. "Let's just hope Hans knows English well enough to keep up with what Lois is saying. Well . . . maybe it would be better if he didn't."

Everyone was laughing along with Chloe by then, and she added, "Anyway, they're completely in love. Lois says she was destined to be with him—that she's never been happier." Chloe stopped to sigh, and glanced Jimmy's way. "It's amazing how quickly someone's destiny can change, isn't it?"

Clark was behind Lana and wrapped his arms around her, kissing her cheek and making her melt. "I know I've finally found _my_ destiny," he whispered. "No one could ever make me as happy as you do, Lana."

Lana tipped her head and kissed his lips. "I love you, Clark Kent—my Superman," she said. "You make my world spin in super-speed circles."

Jimmy and Chloe were cuddling and whispering to one another as well, so Lana knew Jimmy wasn't paying a bit of attention to them.

Clark knew the same, and spun Lana around to face him, just as she suggested. "I love you too, Lana—the one I was always meant to be with," he said. And he decided right there and then, that if anything were to ever happen to take her away from him, he would indeed spin in super-speed circles around the world to reverse time and get her back.

At last, the thick air of romance was pierced by a booming voice entering the room. "Ahhhh, here's the lover's lair!" Mr. Olsen said, stalking over and throwing his arms around each of them. "Much to talk about—couldn't manage it over the phone—had to see your smiling faces."

Mr. Olsen then turned back to Clark. "Did you write her a decent poem yet?" he asked, slugging Clark's arm, then shaking out his burning hand. "Dear heavens! What do you have in that sleeve of yours? A lead pipe?"

Clark couldn't help but laugh, thrilled to have him back. "Something like that!"

"Well, your exploding biceps are going to be useful soon—real soon," Mr. Olsen said. "Tonight, in fact."

"Is everything in place?" Jimmy asked his dad.

"Oh, yes," he answered. "Very much in place. I've got everyone on call for the big heist. And . . . " Mr. Olsen slapped his knee, falling onto the couch with laughter. "That moron Lex has most of his personal staff scouring Los Angeles for you three! Oh, goodness!" He wiped his eyes. "We totally smoked him! I hope they can at least enjoy their passes to the amusement parks . . . Six Flags, Disneyland, California Adventure, Sea World . . . you name it, they've been there looking for you!"

Everyone nodded their approval, imagining Lex's stupid thugs dressing in undercover vacation clothes and sunglasses—searching needlessly through the massive summer crowds.

"So what's the plan, Clark?" Jimmy asked. "How do you want to pull this altogether?"

Part 77:

Jimmy had a good question—one that Clark hadn't been giving a lot of thought to, with more serious threats looming. He dropped his chin, hoping everyone would give him a minute to collect his thoughts—which they did.

He finally exhaled, realizing how he could cover ground with both Lex and Klax-Ar in one swoop. "Okay, this is what I think we should do," he said, going on to explain the sequence of events, and who would be doing what—and something new.

"Why do you need the security tapes from the Metropolis Luthor Corp as well?" Mr. Olsen asked. "This is the first I've heard of that." He glanced to Jimmy, like it was his fault.

"Hey, this is also the first I've heard of it," Jimmy said, with a defensive laugh.

Clark gave an apologetic grin. "I know, and I'm sorry to drop such a sudden bomb, but I've got to get a hold of that security footage as well," he said. "It doesn't have to be tonight, just as soon as possible."

Mr. Olsen looked positively astounded. "My dear boy, you've thought of another way to sink your old friend, haven't you?" he asked.

Clark thought to say, 'Oh no, this new part of the plan is to sink another nemesis I've somehow collected—the alien one who can suck powers and redirect spaceships.

Man, he had such a complicated life for an eighteen year old.

Instead, Clark said, "We'll still have to go through with the plans we have. But I'll just need that one extra favor from you, if we can pull it off."

Mr. Olsen scoffed. "IF we can pull it off? Ha!" he said, in hysterics again. "Mr. Kent, I could make the Eiffel Tower disappear into thin air if I wanted to!"

Clark wished he could bottle some of Mr. Olsen's confidence, and swallow it whole. That's the kind of guts he needed right now. He needed to believe in himself more—that he was a big bad alien butt-kicker. And he also needed to believe in Lana, that she was capable of wiping the floor with Klax-Ar's face, just like Isobel had done to Clark in China.

"Sounds perfect," Clark said to Mr. Olsen. "We may need just about that much magic to accomplish what we need to." He winked at Lana.

"Speaking of magic," Mr. Olsen said with a twitter. "I'll have you know that I intend to fully cover your honeymoon expenses!"

The whole group glanced between one another, unsure of which couple he was talking to. Had Jimmy even told Mr. Olsen about he and Chloe yet?

"Tell me, did you pop the question yet?" he asked, clearly speaking to Clark now.

Clark's natural reaction was to gulp hard, but his cheeks only took on a bit of color this time. He wrapped his arms around Lana again. "Now, Mr. Olsen, don't ruin the surprise," he said. "Some questions are meant to be popped in private, you know."

He hooted his approval. "Quite right! Quite right!" he said. "But just remember that the honeymoon is at my expense—start dreaming up somewhere lovely."

Though Lana was tingling with excitement, she wondered for a minute if Mr. Olsen would want a full report afterward. "Thank you, Mr. Olsen," she said. "I'll personally be the first to tell you when the time comes."

Chloe was sitting back with her arms crossed, not believing how openly Clark and Lana were talking about marriage now. She admitted to herself that she was jealous, but not really of the two of them being together, just of how wonderful it must feel to really know who you were going to spend the rest of your life with.

Jimmy watched her changing expressions and thought it was time to expose the truth—to a couple of people. "Hey, Dad," he said. "Did I happen to mention that I was falling in love?"

"You're what?" Chloe asked, flipping her head to Jimmy, who had a huge grin on his face.

Mr. Olsen literally bounded from the couch. "I knew it! I'm telling you, I knew it!" he said, then took Chloe right out of Jimmy's arms—pulling her onto her feet. "What a lovely daughter-in-law you'll make! Oh, I've never been so happy!" On and on he went, with Chloe getting smooshed by hug after hug.

Jimmy winked at Clark and Lana. "Well, that ought to take some pressure off you two for a while," he said.

Jimmy finally stood and pulled Chloe away from his father. "Hey, pops, do you mind sharing?" he asked, to which Mr. Olsen backed away with his hands in the air.

"By all means," he said with another hearty whoop. "Why don't you two go find a nice quiet place to discuss this."

"Exactly what I was thinking," Jimmy said, taking Chloe by the hand and leading her from the room.

Chloe's smile just about split her face in two, and Clark and Lana were smiling just as big.

"Well, they might be a while—I hope, anyway," Mr. Olsen said. "Let's talk about our plans over breakfast."

On their way to the kitchen, Mr. Olsen made a call to one of his guys to request the Luthor Corp security tapes from Metropolis. Clark couldn't believe how much easier Mr. Olsen had made this whole mess. He truly hoped he could repay him one day.

When they reached the kitchen, they expected to make waffles again, but were instead happy to find a large tray of breakfast pastries on the table. Clark was relieved, but hoped he wouldn't have to fold napkins or cite poetry again.

Mr. Olsen had also brought juice and a terrific variety of fresh fruit. "Yum!" Lana said, still feeling like her stomach was the great abyss. "Thank you! I didn't even hear your helicopter this time."

"Oh, I drove one of my covert vehicles—a Hummer," Mr. Olsen said proudly. "It's registered under a completely bogus name."

"You have TWO hummers?" Clark asked. "Very cool!"

"I do?" Mr. Olsen asked, scratching his head. "Oh, my! I guess I do! Jimmy has the other one up here, doesn't he? . . . Come to think of it, I might have three of them."

Clark and Lana tried their best not to burst into laughter. Hummers weren't the easiest of vehicles to forget about.

"Well, that should make things a lot easier transportation wise," said Mr. Olsen. "We can split up and do what we need to."

Clark still didn't think it was a good idea that Mr. Olsen would be joining them tonight, but when they were doing the planning earlier, Mr. Olsen made it quite clear that he wanted 'in on the excitement.' That brought in one more person for Clark to worry about—not just about his safety, but also about him witnessing either he or Lana use their abilities.

Clark had tried his best to give Mr. Olsen very safe, and unnecessary, assignments for tonight. Now he just had to hold his breath and hope it worked out that way.

"So, let's run through the list again," Clark said. "By the time we get there, your guys will have the Luthor Corp Smallville plant security tapes, as well as the reversal machine in a van, right?"

Mr. Olsen gave a proud nod. "You betcha! And my men are gathering meteor rocks from Smallville as we speak—and they've put them in a lead trunk, just as you requested," he said. "They say there's a literal mine field of them around your quaint little town—how astonishing!"

Clark raised his brows. "Yep, tell me about it," he said. "Thanks for getting that in place. Okay, so next—I'll be kidnapping Lex with Lana . . . "

"Oh, pooh!" Mr. Olsen interrupted. "I do wish you'd change your mind about that part. I'd love to get my hands on him, or my boot!" He gave a very girly kick into the air, which probably would've scared no more than a bluebird away.

"But Mr. Olsen, you're needed in a much more important role," Lana said.

"Right-o!" he answered, his chest puffed out. "I'll be on the lookout for approaching danger. Very important indeed."

Clark was glad that he'd finally agreed to that. "Then, we'll have Jimmy heading up the switching of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde—Lana will be back by then to help him. And I'll be tweaking the security tapes with Chloe. Now, are we sure your guys know what to do for that? There won't be a lot of time for rehearsal." Mr. Olsen huffed. Clark should've known better than to ask. "Oh, yes, that's right," Clark hurried to say. "They're professionals!" Professional WHAT he wondered.

Jimmy and Chloe eventually made their way into the kitchen, with their hair more messy than when they'd even woken up. Once again, the plan was finalized, and Mr. Olsen pointed out a big cardboard box that he'd brought.

"Here we go—should be the right sizes, precisely what you told me," he said, tugging at the box tape, which he couldn't manage to remove. Clark stepped over and pretended to strain as he finished the job. Mr. Olsen gave a sly smile. "Loosed it up there for you, didn't I?"

Clark wiped his forehead. "Yes, thank you!"

They went through the contents of the box, pulling out black shirts, socks, boots, and pairs of black pants—Chloe and Lana got shiny tight leather ones, which they couldn't stop laughing about.

Clark leaned over to whisper in Lana's ear. "How exactly am I supposed to concentrate when you're wearing those?" he asked.

She smiled and collected her things, then whispered back to him. "You'll have to get it out of your system before we leave," she said, then headed off to her bedroom to change. She had to make sure she could move in them, and testing that out in the closet with Clark would be a perfect way to do so.

Part 78:

When they were all dressed in black, they met in the Grand Hangout. "Oh, my gosh! This is so Matrix!" Chloe said, looking over everyone and feeling more sexy than she had in her entire life.

Clark's bugged-out eyes were looking in only one direction. "Yeah, something like that," he said, as Lana posed for him, and almost made him start the room on fire.

Mr. Olsen twirled around . . . yes, twirled. Like a ballerina. Then he did his girly kick again. "This is going to be the most wonderful night of my life!" he said. "Tell me," he continued, doing a deep lunge, and forming his hand to the shape of a gun. "Do I look like one of Charlie's Angels?"

"Very much so," Jimmy said, his face as red as a strawberry. No his father wasn't gay—far from it, but he could definitely put a drama queen like Paris Hilton to shame. "In fact, you remind me of the character Farrah Fawcett once played . . . oh, what was her name?"

"Jill!" Mr. Olsen said, brandishing his 'hand' gun again. "She was my favorite! She was so witty and smart!"

"Uhh, yeah," Chloe said, trying to hide her sarcasm. "That's the one."

"Oh, snap!" Mr. Olsen said, panting for breath from his Charlie's Angels workout. "I forgot about all the fun stuff in the Hummer! I'm going to need some help, Kent," he said, racing from the room.

Clark smiled and started after him, but Jimmy laughed and said, "I'll get it. I need some serious fresh air."

"Wow. I guess black brings out the REAL crazy side of more than just one of us," Lana said, stepping up to Clark and putting her hands on his waist.

He looked down on her, all the way down—feeling very much like his reckless alter-ego at the moment. "I'll give up everything I own if Mr. Olsen will only let you keep that outfit," he said.

"Wedding gifts number three and four," Chloe said. "Blinders and ear muffs—for MYSELF!"

She was about to go help the others, but she could hear Mr. Olsen and Jimmy already heading back toward the room. "Okay, everyone," Mr. Olsen said, balancing a large box which Clark grabbed from him before it fell. "We've got every gadget and tool you can imagine in these boxes."

Jimmy came in with a large box as well, which Clark helped him lower to the couch. Mr. Olsen started pulling out all sorts of stuff, and he was right—it looked FUN! Grappling hooks, rope, night-vision goggles—you name it. None of it was necessary—especially for Clark, but if it made Mr. Olsen feel cool, then Clark wasn't about to tell him that it could stay in the Hummer.

After they'd practiced with the gadgets the remainder of the day, and Clark and Lana snuck off for a necessary test in the closet, darkness finally started to settle, and they piled into the two Hummers and headed for Smallville.

Clark and Lana had a Hummer all to themselves, and were glad to have a bit more time alone—but unfortunately, it had to be all about business. They had more than just their own lives to protect tonight.

When they reached the town limits, Clark knew he had to warn Lana of something. "This may not work, Lana," he said. "You know that, right?"

She gave a slow nod. "I've been thinking a lot about that," she said. "But even if it wasn't about protecting ourselves, I would still think it would be worth it if we have a chance to help Lex."

Clark released a heavy breath. "I still can't believe this has happened to him—that he hates me enough to want to kill me," he said, thinking back to the very few times in his life he'd had that bitter darkness fill him and almost take over—but it didn't. "So, what do we do if this doesn't help him? We can't let him go on like this, right?"

Lana stopped staring at the passing corn fields, and stared at Clark instead. "I don't know, Clark," she said. "We can't . . . you know . . . "

"Yeah, I know," he said, which is exactly why he was glad to have gone to the Fortress when he did this last time. Yes, he'd learned a lot about Klax-Ar, and Isa and Kal, but in so doing he discovered something else he hadn't told Lana yet. It's not that he was hiding it form her, he just needed the necessary opportunity.

Jor-El had taught him about an ability he had gained when he gripped the green crystal—which sent unfamiliar sparks through him, and Clark had never been so terrified to test out a new power in his life. This was nothing compared to heat vision—or even flying. He couldn't compare it to any of his powers but his strength, in the way that if he didn't have complete control over it, he could literally take away someone's life in just one miscalculated instant.

As Luthor Mansion came into view, Clark's satellite phone beeped and he answered it. "You ready?" Jimmy asked.

"Yep, let's do it," Clark answered with confidence. Lana noticed the change in his voice and felt courage enter her as well. Whether or not they still had feelings of friendship for the Lex they used to know—this was not the same guy. And he would destroy either one of them if he had the chance. Lana was NOT going to let that happen.

"Good. Dad's Luthor Corp contacts just called—they've stolen the security tapes and triggered the alarms," Jimmy said. "They're on the way toward us—so Lex should be heading out with his thugs any minute. You know what to do from there."

"Gotcha," Clark said, seeing that a large moving van had now pulled between their Hummer and the other one—which they had been told was the vehicle that would be carrying the machine to reverse Lex's personality change, as well as a whole stash of meteor rocks. It was good to keep an eye on the moving van, Clark thought, and stay completely away from it.

All three vehicles parked on the side of the road, and turned off their lights. It wasn't long until, just as they'd planned on, a caravan of black cars came pouring out of Lex's drive, turning onto the main road with a Mercedes trailing behind them—recognizable by its familiar tail lights.

Clark knew that Lex wouldn't sit idly at home when someone was breaking into Luthor Corp. That's why Mr. Olsen's men had triggered the alarms on purpose. He also knew, that with half his beef-cake staff in LA looking for three runaways that weren't there, Lex would leave his mansion widely unprotected when most of the rest of his guys ran off to Luthor Corp with him.

This should be a walk in the park—but then, Clark had been wrong about that many times before. As soon as Lex's parade of vehicles rounded a corner, Jimmy drove his Hummer into the Luthor Mansion drive, with the white van following.

"Let's go have some fun," Lana said, sultry and devilish—very Isobel-like.

He looked at her to make sure her eyes hadn't turned purple. "Dang, you're hot when you talk like that."

"I'm feelin' HOT . . . and dangerous," she said, tilting her head and peeling off the black leather gloves that Mr. Olsen suggested they wear. She didn't know if they would affect her ability to do magic, but she wasn't taking the chance. She and Clark weren't wearing their masks either. What was the point? Lex was going to know exactly who they were anyway—just moments from now.

Clark and Lana stepped out of the Hummer, and Clark grabbed onto her. "Hold on, baby," he said. "I'm gonna take you for a joy ride—the red k way."

They super-sped down the road, then slowed until the caravan went around a corner, leaving Lex as the lone straggler. Lex was going at least 75, so this was going to be tricky.

Clark sped up to the Mercedes, set Lana down as gently as he could, then grabbed the car from behind, lifting it into the air—its tires still spinning and engine roaring. Lana was running as fast as she could to catch up from where Clark had left her, while Clark used his heat vision to blow out the tires and fry the engine. What a waste of a sweet car, Clark thought . . . what a waste of a great friendship.

Clark finally set the Mercedes in a ditch, to make it look like an accident. When Lana caught up, they could both see that Lex was in shock, frozen still. "What a baby!" Lana said, with her favorite witch laugh. If she was gonna do this—she was gonna be down and dirty about it. "Get the door for me, will ya, Sweetie?"

Clark smiled, pulling the door completely off, then super-speeding twenty-feet away, so Lana could get the first item of business over with.

"Got any pretty green rocks for me, Lexie?" she said, twisting her hand to release his seatbelt, then giving him a healthy dose of shock treatment, so he'd know she was literally in charge. "Take your jacket off, and step out of the car like a good little boy."

Lex was completely freaked out—he'd seen her use magic before—last week, but this was crazy. She was acting like a tiger—ready to rip him to pieces. He removed his jacket, and started to lay it on the passenger seat—but at the last moment, reached for his gun in the inside pocket.

Bamm!

Lana thought of Lex as no more than a log, and hurled him against the car roof, knocking him unconscious. "Naughty boy," she said, pulling him out and letting his head hit the dirt. "I was going to let you stay awake for the party, but have it your way."

Lana removed his new Kryptonite ring—wondering if he now had a stash of them, then summoned two more meteor rocks from his pants pockets. She was sure his jacket was stashed with them as well, so she whisked it out of the car, and hurled it into the trees with the rest of the meteor rocks she'd just banished.

"Do a quick scan, Clark," Lana shouted to him. "I think I got them."

Clark x-rayed the area for Kryptonite, including Lex's body, then super-sped over. "You've been practicing, haven't you?" he said, giving Lana a quick kiss. "I better never be late for dinner."

Part 79:

He scooped up Lex, throwing him over his shoulder, then held onto Lana as well. They arrived at Luthor mansion just moments later. Clark x-rayed the interior. "Okay, Mr. Olsen's guys have the security guards tied up, and the machine in place," he said. "Let's see how much of Lex's soul we can salvage."

Lex was still unconscious when they entered the mansion. Mr. Olsen jumped into the air and clapped his hands when he saw Lex draped over Clark's shoulder.

"Let's get on with it then," Mr. Olsen said, pulling his black ski mask to the top of his head so everyone would know who he was, because it would've been hard to guess. "What fun! What fun!"

Fun was far from what Clark was thinking this was. "Okay, Mr. Olsen," Clark said. "Can you help Jimmy and Lana get Lex tied up to a chair near the machine? Then get to your post on the roof?"

Mr. Olsen's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. "I get to TIE him to a chair?" he asked, with all the enthusiasm of a girl with a full bouquet of balloons. "Can I, ummmmm, draw a smiley on the top of his head?" He was in utter hysterics—so opposite of the onlooker's moods. "I've always wanted to do it!"

Clark walked as far as he could with Lex before he reached the formal living room, where the machine, and the crystal of Kryptonite were now in place. "Let's hold off on the smiley face for now," Clark said, causing Mr. Olsen's cheerful expression to wash away. "Why don't you go short-sheet his bed instead . . . on your way to the roof."

"Splendid idea!" Mr. Olsen said, rubbing his leather-gloved hands together, then pulling the ski mask over his face again—why? No one knew.

Chloe had already turned off the cameras, and was preparing the tapes in the security room, just across the hall from where they were. She saw Clark and Lana hesitate when they got to the double doors, and ran out to help them cover up what might seem a little strange to the others.

"You know, Clark," Chloe said. "Your back must be killing you from hauling around that lump of lard. We can take Lex from here."

"Thanks, Chlo" Clark said, lowering Lex into Jimmy's arms, and watching as he, Chloe and Lana helped him carry Lex to a chair in front of the reversal machine. Mr. Olsen did his part by picking up one of Lex's shoes that fell to the ground on the way over. As the others tied Lex to the chair, Mr. Olsen pretended to beat Lex over the head with his shoe.

"All right then . . . my turn with the rope now, sweetheart," Mr. Olsen said to Lana, who stepped back and let him take over—though it was pretty much done by then.

Clark had stayed in the hallway, appearing to supervise. "You all set, Jimmy?" he asked.

Jimmy nodded, looking over the notes in the folder he had from Luthor Corp. "I didn't plan on him being unconscious," he said. "So this should be over in no time."

"Good," Chloe said, taking Mr. Olsen's hand and tugging him away before he knitted a shawl for Lex with the rope—he had it wrapped all over him. "Let's get busy on the tapes. Mr. Olsen's men are set up in Lex's office, ready to go."

"I'll be heading off to my lookout then," Mr. Olsen said, waving as he went down the hall. "After stopping for a bit of mischief, of course."

When he was far enough away, Chloe said to Clark, "Short-sheeting Lex's bed? You've probably given him all sorts of ideas for summer camp sabotage. He'll probably put plastic wrap on the toilet seat as well—and Kool-aid powder in the shower head."

"Exactly," Clark said, smiling. "Which should keep him really busy."

They went into the security room, and Chloe spoke into a walkie-talkie. "Okay guys, we're set—do your thing." Chloe turned on the security cameras in the office, and pushed record.

Clark watched the screen as three men, all in black, entered Lex's office and broke into his safe—the same indestructible one Clark managed to rip off its hinges just over a week ago. Mr. Olsen was right, these guys were definitely professionals. They'd been told they were looking for rare green gems, which they found in huge abundance, and placed them in the lead lined trunk—with the rest of the meteor rocks they'd collected from Smallville earlier in the day.

"Why did you want all that Kryptonite, Clark?" Chloe asked.

He tried to smile as he answered, but the tightness in his gut took over. "It's for later," was all he said.

"Oh," Chloe answered, swallowing. "How did Lana do with Lex? Are you feeling more confidence in her?"

Now the smile finally came. "Let's just say that I'd hate to be the Luthor Mansion laundry maid," Clark said. "Lana was definitely in the witch zone."

"I would've loved to be there," Chloe said, then returned her attention to the security monitor. "Okay, it's almost time for me to make an appearance, I better change." She picked up her duffle bag and swung it over her shoulder.

Clark dropped his chin, not knowing how to say this. "Actually, Chloe. That won't be necessary."

"What are you talking about?" she asked.

The whole plan from the beginning was to recreate the vault being broken into on the day of the meteor shower—but instead of Clark taking the door off, which Chloe had now confirmed was on the original security footage, they were replacing him with three other thugs. And after they'd recorded their mock-robbery, Chloe was supposed to enter the office in the same clothes she'd worn that day, and look around at the mess. They'd then splice that scene with the original footage of Lex entering and finding her there. That way, Lex would no longer have proof of Clark's abilities, and be left to wonder if he was simply losing his mind again.

It was risky, but if the restoring of his good side were to work, Chloe thought they just might pull it off. At the time it was Clark's only hope, but not anymore.

"I'll explain everything when we have more time, Chloe," he said, hoping this might ease her concern—at least for the moment. "I know you hate it when I'm secretive, but I just need you to trust me."

Chloe had heard that line from Clark so many times, it was like a broken record. But as she considered when he had used it before, she realized he'd always been right. She DID need to trust him. "Ohhh – kay," she said, not liking the back-sliding of hiding something from her again, but setting the duffle bag down nonetheless.

Clark decided to at least give her a bread crumb. "We just need this to look like a common robbery now—without you involved," he said. "I want to keep you and Lana as far off of Lex's radar as possible from now on."

At that moment, Lana exited the living room. "It's done," she said. "And Lex is starting to wake up. What should we do?"

Clark stood and put his arm around Lana, giving her a gentle squeeze of gratitude. "Can you take care of the rest of this, Chloe?" he asked her. "I need to have a little chat with Lex."

"I guess," she said. "What exactly am I doing though? This last revelation seems to change things."

"Everything else will be sticking with the original plan," he answered, trying to ignore Lana's curious expression. He hadn't told her about this because, until he reached Luthor Mansion, he wasn't 100 sure he had the guts to go through with it. "Erase the security footage from when the ceiling fell on us at Luthor Corp, and replace it with still footage of the room. Then splice in the new footage of tonight's fake robbery into the office footage of the day of the meteor shower." He went through a few more instances when he thought Lex's security cameras might have caught up with him—including he and Lana stealing the key from him last week—a flying book was sure to raise an eyebrow or two.

There were plenty of Mr. Olsen's men at the Luthor Corp plant still, to keep Lex's staff busy, so Chloe would have a while to get it all done. She was going to have to keep Jimmy out of the room though, so he wouldn't see anything that he shouldn't. Chloe was actually glad she had just found out about Clark's secret this past year. Any sooner, and she might have cracked from having to cover up so many things. She had a feeling though, that this new role in Clark's life was only getting started.

Part of the plan for keeping Lex's guys away from the mansion was that Mr. Olsen's men had recordings of Lex's voice giving the Luthor dudes commands over their communication devices—leading them on a wild goose chase throughout the plant. They shouldn't even notice that he was missing until everyone had finished up at the mansion, and Lex was discovered in his car on the side of the road.

"I'm fine, then," Chloe said. "Just ask Jimmy to take care of getting everything back to normal out there, and to let the men in black know they need to replace the vault door now."

That was going to be a lot of fun for Jimmy to tell them, Clark thought sarcastically. Darn, this was exactly the time when Clark needed the Superman suit . . . so he could rush in there in disguise, lift the titanium vault door for the friendly little robbers, give them a wink—then fly off with a smile.

"Why do you have that cheeky grin on your face, Clark?" Lana asked, noticing his mysterious amusement.

He gave a short laugh. "I was just thinking how cool I was going to look with a cape," he said. "You know, with it flapping behind me when I fly off into the sky."

Lana smiled, thinking this whole cape and tights thing might take some getting used to after all. "Oh, yes . . . up up and away," she said, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

"Hey, I kinda like that slogan," Clark said.

Part 80:

They stopped short of entering the living room, waiting for Jimmy to put the Kryptonite crystal into the lead box that Lana had given him—the same one she still had Lex's ring in from their scuffle in her apartment.

Lex's head was bobbing from side to side, and he was moaning. "I better get him out of here before he wakes up," Clark said to both Jimmy and Lana. "How did it go?"

"Text book perfect," Jimmy said, smiling. "Well, that's according to the notes from the first accident. But since this all seems like science fiction to me, I really don't know. I guess we'll find out over time."

"Good enough. Thanks, Jimmy," Clark said, then passed along the instructions from Chloe, telling him she was deep in the flow of things and asked him to give her a while before he interrupted.

Jimmy walked off, and promised to check on his Dad as well. "Who knows what that mischievous elf is up to," he said.

"What are you going to say to Lex?" Lana whispered as they were walking over to untie him.

Clark once again had to debate about how much to expose right then—he didn't have the time to explain the decision he'd made. "If you can get the guys to load the trunk of meteor rocks into the Hummer, then meet me at the cave, you'll be there for most of it."

Lana squinted. "The cave? Why?" she asked. "I mean, I know why we need to get the Kryptonite there, but why does Lex need to go along?"

Clark sighed, then turned back to Lex when he moaned again. "You'll see when you get to the cave," he said to Lana, knowing he couldn't do it at the mansion. There were too many people there. "And I know what I'm going to do will seem crazy, but I'm doing it for a very important reason, that you'll soon understand."

She nodded, trusting him.

"Okay, I'll meet you there. I love you," she said, kissing him. "Good luck."

Clark smiled. "Good luck?" he said. "No . . . be careful, don't get hurt, etcetera etcetera?"

She put her hand on his cheek. "I'm repaying the favor for when you withheld your expressions of fear when I had to rip Lex from his car," she said. "I really needed to know that you had complete confidence in me at that moment."

"I did," he said. "I think the devil himself would've been afraid of you right then."

Lana tipped her head. "Ohhh, now that might be fun," she said. "When can we take HIM on?"

"Hopefully never!" Clark said, knowing he couldn't mess around anymore. Lex was starting to open his eyes. "All right, I've gotta get him out of here. I'll meet you at the cave as soon as possible."

She gave his hands a squeeze. "I'll be right there," she said, then walked out into the hall to make sure no one would witness Clark speeding off with Lex. She gave him the go sign, then Clark ripped off the rope and took Lex for the ride of his life. Too bad he wasn't conscious for it.

"Where are we?" Lex asked, looking around in the darkness—with only the moonlight coming through crevices to give shape to Clark's figure.

"We're in the cave, Lex," Clark answered, pacing back and forth with his fingers laced behind his head.

Lex was sitting on the dirt floor, leaning against the cave wall. "What did you do to me?" he asked holding his throbbing head. He said it with a tinge of coolness that Clark caught right away.

"Nothing that didn't need to be done," Clark said. "I think the accident at Luthor Corp did something more serious to you than any of us believed. And I hope I just reversed it."

Lex rubbed his burning chest, feeling the sting of the laser. "So you decided to play the hero again?" he asked, with a sneer that Clark was sure Lex didn't know he could see. He had his x-ray vision on for that specific reason—to read Lex's expressions without him realizing it. "Aren't you tired of saving me, Clark?"

Clark stopped pacing and squatted to be level with him. "Yes, Lex," he said, his mind confirming once and for all that this WAS the real Lex—evil, and cynical. There was nothing left of his one time friend. "Actually, I am tired of saving you. That's why we're going to have a little chat."

"What?" he asked, laughing. "Are you going to threaten me into being your secret keeper? Because despite what you think, that accident has nothing to do with how I feel about you. It's all your—"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Clark said, standing again and folding his arms. "All my secrets and lies. Well, guess what, Lex. Here's your chance. I'm going to come clean with you. Ask me whatever you want."

"Right! Like I can expect you to tell me the truth about your abilities," Lex said, huffing his disbelief.

"I'll do more than just tell you the truth about them, Lex," he said, super-speeding out of the cave, then brining back a pile of twigs and small logs. "I'll show them to you." He turned the stack of wood into a literal bonfire.

"Holy—" Lex said, scooting away from it. "How'd you . . . "

"With my eyes," Clark said. "I have a whole list of powers that you don't know about." He leaned over, to look Lex right in the face—his own face reflecting the burning orange flames of the fire. "Which means you should know better than to mess with me. But since you haven't seemed to learn your lesson, get on with it . . . ask me whatever you want."

Lex looked around the cave, wondering what kind of trap Clark had set for him. "You're going to kill me, aren't you?" he asked. "You're going to tell me everything I've wanted to know—just to get it off your guilt-ridden chest—then you're going to kill me."

Clark shrugged his shoulders. "That's only partly right," he said. "I'll decide what to do with you at the end."

The end, Lex thought. Which was exactly what this felt like for him. "All right, assuming that you'll let me die a happy man, tell me what your connection is to these caves," Lex said. "And don't give me that stupid school paper crap."

"Well, just for the record, I HAVE done three different school papers on these caves," Clark answered, leaning against the opposite wall—next to the bonfire, and actually looking like part of it.

The smoke was rising out the top, through the very hole Clark fell through his sophomore year when he found the place, which was why he'd built the fire where he did. He was a Boy Scout in more than one sense. And besides, asphyxiating Lex would take all the excitement out of the moment. He had something much better planned for him.

"But you're right," Clark continued. "Believe it or not, these caves were meant for one person and one person alone—me."

Lex scoffed at his arrogance. "Why don't you tell the Kawatche tribe that," he said.

"Actually, Professor Willowbrook was the one who told ME that," Clark said, pointing to the painting above him. "You see that guy—well, that's Naman—the name the Kawatche people gave to the man who would one day come from the stars."

"I already know that," Lex said, sneering again. "What does he have to do with you?"

"A lot, actually," Clark answered, nonchalantly. "I'm Naman." Lex laughed, but Clark didn't care. "And you, my dear old friend, are Sageeth. I'm sure of that."

Clark shuddered when he saw Lana in the shadows of the cave, shaking her head as she listened in. He knew she had to be in shock over what he was revealing to Lex.

"I could only hope to be Sageeth—a worthy opponent," Lex said. "Because if what you say is true, then I'll be the good to balance out your evil."

Clark walked closer to him, squatting down again. "Well that depends on what I decide to do with you tonight, doesn't it?" Clark said, his decision having already been made before he even entered the cave. Otherwise, he wouldn't have been doing this. "Because one of us is definitely a threat to this lovely planet of yours, the question is, which one of us is it?"

This planet of his? Lex's mouth dropped as he mulled over every clue he had about Clark. If he really was Naman, that meant Clark was a . . . "Klax-Ar is looking for YOU, isn't he?" Lex said, his heart pounding as he recalled watching the Metropolis security tapes over and over again. "Which explains why you can both shoot fire from your eyes and speed around like Tasmanian Devils. You're an alien just like he is!"

Clark turned on his super-hearing, focusing hard in the direction where Lana was hiding. He could hear very quite sniffs, and he couldn't wait for this to all make sense to her.

Part 81:

Clark let Lex get all his evil laughing out, then waited for him to start talking again. He'd learn all he could from Lex while he had the ability to tell him about Klax-Ar. "Well, when he catches up to you, Kal-El, tell him I've got his spaceship!" Lex continued. "And if he wants it back, I'll exchange it for your head!" Clark was so calm that it made Lex even more crazed with fury. "Admit it!"

"Gladly," Clark said, ready to give Lex the pot of gold. "I'm an alien. I'm from a planet called Krypton. I came to Earth in a spaceship the day of the first meteor shower . . . I can see through almost anything, I can start fire with my eyes, make ice with my breath, catch bullets—which I've done several times to save your life . . . " he reached down and picked up a burning log, letting it glow in his hands, " . . . I'm pretty much indestructible—except for the one weakness you found—the meteor rocks." Lana gasped, but Lex was too stunned to notice. " . . . ohh, and I should probably mention that I can fly—that's how I tore the door off your jet and stole the element from you last fall. Anything else you care to know?"

Clark dropped the log at Lex's feet, and flipped his jaw shut. Lex swallowed. "Clark, I know you wouldn't be telling me this if you didn't plan to get rid of me," he said, trying to regain his voice. "But we can be great together, you know that. I'll give you everything you want—you can live the life of a king with Lana . . . "

Lex went on and on, and Clark pretended to be interested, nodding and helping Lex off the ground so they could stand as men, face to face.

When Lex finished his proposal Clark released a long breath. "You know, Lex. For years, I thought you were the brother I've always wanted," he said, feeling his emotions come more to the surface than he wished they would. "We've been through a lot. I've saved your life, and you've saved mine. You've helped my family in so many ways, and I've tried to do all I could to repay you for that. I've trusted you over and over again—sometimes I was let down, and sometimes I wasn't." He put both his hands on Lex's shoulders. "Losing you as my best friend has been one of the most painful things I've ever gone through—"

"We can have it all back, Clark," Lex said, sounding desperate now as he felt Clark's strong hands on him. "I'm telling you, we can still be best friends—and partners." Clark waved Lana over, and Lex shivered when he saw her.

He was surrounded. It was over.

Lana approached, standing as close as her feet would dare move her. "Clark, no. Don't do it," she whispered, hoping Clark could hear her.

He couldn't.

Clark kept one hand on Lex's shoulder. "Sorry, Lex. I already have a partner," he said, putting his other hand on Lex's forehead, and holding him up against the wall. "I wish it hadn't come to this."

Lana looked away, knowing if this was the choice Clark had made, he'd made it after desperate consideration. But she didn't know how either of them were going to live with the decision.

But then she caught a glimpse of a bright yellow glow coming from Clark's hand. She looked back and gasped when she saw Lex's head completely lit up—with a distinct light that was very familiar to her from another place and time. Clark was deep in concentration, with his eyes closed, and she stared at him for what seemed to be ten minutes or more.

Clark finally opened his eyes, the glow fading, and caught Lex in his arms as he went completely limp. "I need to get him back to his car," was all Clark could say. He then turned to the fire and froze the flames with his super-breath. Other than the ice he made out of Lana's water last week, he hadn't used it since his first time in the Fortress.

Lana swallowed, following him out of the cave and knowing it wasn't the right time to ask questions. Clark had tears streaming down his face.

He walked Lana toward the Hummer, still carrying Lex, and said, "I'll be right back, and I'll explain everything, okay?"

She just nodded, her hands trembling as she waited. Clark was back in less than a minute, and she put her arms around him. They stayed there, completely silent, until Clark knew it was time to speak.

"It's not what you think, Lana," he said, pulling back so he could look at her. "My problems with Lex wouldn't have been solved with a memory wash at Summerholt," he said. "That would've taken everything from him, and I just couldn't do it. I would've never forgiven myself for wiping the last four years out of his life—and then we would've had to do the same with everyone else Lex had come in contact with concerning me. I would've destroyed several lives—who knows how many."

Lana squinted. "Then what did you just do?"

He rubbed his hands up and down her arms. "When I gripped the Kryptonian crystal that Professor Willowbrook gave me, I gained the ability to choose specific things that I wanted to erase from someone's memory," he said. "My fear in using the power is that I can accidentally do more damage than good—I could potentially erase everything a person has learned—every memory they have. I could take away their life."

She felt a tightness in her throat, feeling this was not far from what Gertrude had done to Isobel—in fact, it was the exact same glow she saw both times. That must have been one of the Kryptonian abilities Gertrude had inherited. But why did she have to use it for such evil?

"Clark, I saw how much you were straining to master your new ability," Lana said. "At first I didn't know what you were doing, but then it all made sense. And do you know what my first thought was?"

That I was going to kill him? Clark almost asked, but instead he just whispered, "What?"

"That you would never use that power to hurt anyone," she said. "That whatever you were doing, I trusted you, and knew that you wouldn't be doing it unless you felt you could control it."

He nodded slowly, a gentle smile appearing. "Thank you," he said. "That was one of the hardest things I've ever done. When I connected with Lex's mind, I sorted through every memory he had of me—of anything to do with me. The stones, the caves, every curiosity he'd ever considered. I saw the good and the bad, and for an instant, I wanted to erase all of it. But I only took the conversations and events that were suspicious—including every time that I've saved him. Just watching it all over again was such a roller coaster, and when I finished . . . " He trailed off, his eyes pooling with tears again.

Lana just waited.

" . . . I wished I could've erased the same memories from my own mind," he said. "No matter what this changes about how he feels about me, I can never get back the friendship we once had. Lex will become Sageeth, Lana. All I've done is postpone his destiny."

Lana held onto him tightly, feeling his loss and pain. Clark didn't tell her this, but he also tried to erase the animosity Lex had for Mr. Olsen—and the events that fueled his desire to take over his company. He hoped that would somehow scratch the surface of repaying Mr. Olsen for all he'd done for them.

After a while, he straightened, gaining control of his emotions, and said, "What we did tonight wasn't a waste. It looks like the crystal didn't help Lex's personality, but that's only because he chose to let that evil side be his true self. We can't change that." He paused, thinking of what else he had to do tonight. "But we have to continue to remove everything from Lex's life that causes him to suspect me. I have to steal all the memorabilia he's collected about me . . . his laptop, all his files, back up discs . . . I'll have to get into his office and see what I can find there . . . everywhere. And then I'll have to find out what others know about me too . . . like Lionel, and modify his memory as well."

Lana suddenly remembered something that she had to tell Clark. "Mr. Olsen found Lionel in one of the bedrooms," she said, in a quick mode of panic. "He said he appeared to be in a coma, but was mumbling, 'He's coming for you, Kal-El.'"

"Lionel?" Clark asked, in shock. "How does Lionel know about Klax-Ar? What is going on here?"

She shook her head. "Let's get back to the mansion and find out."

Part 82:

Clark and Lana had to take care of a much needed task before leaving the caves. They hid the trunk full of Kryptonite in a dark corner—for when they would need it most. "Do you still have the lead box with the ring and meteor rock crystal with you?" Clark asked.

To lighten the mood, which had been way too stressful tonight, Lana tipped her head and looked thoughtful. "Umm, actually, I thought I'd have the pretty green rock made into another necklace for myself," she said. "What do you think?"

He picked Lana up, throwing her over his shoulder, and spinning in circles. "I think you may just need something like that for our honeymoon," he said. "Otherwise, you'll never get a break from me."

She pounded on his back with her fists, laughing and getting very dizzy. "And what will you use to keep ME away from YOU?" she asked, between gasps for air.

Clark stopped spinning and moved her down to his arms. "Absolutely nothing," he said, then kissed her until they both almost forgot about the rest of what had happened that night . . . and what still had to be done.

"Okay . . . we better save it for the closet, Clark," Lana said, laughing as she gave him what she thought would wrap up their lingering kisses. But then she went back to his lips like a magnet. "Well, maybe just a few more little ones."

Five minutes later, they'd finally made it back into the Hummer and were on their way to Luthor Mansion. Lana called Chloe and asked if she could get to work on finding files on Clark if she was done with manipulating the tapes, and if Jimmy could try to find what he could about Olsen Enterprises—they were going to trash everything possible that could trigger a relapse in Lex's hatred.

Clark would've let Lana drive, while he super-sped ahead of her, but he was starting to feel uneasy again. It wasn't that he didn't trust her abilities, it was that he didn't yet know exactly what to expect out of Klax-Ar—or where he was.

And to be honest with himself, he admitted that he was a bit nervous about running into the dude without Lana at his side . . . and on their terms. The meeting HAD to take place at the cave. That was their only chance.

When searching through Lex's memories, he discovered that Lex was tracking several cases of attacks in Smallville over the past week—all on meteor freaks. So Klax-Ar hadn't just hit the Luthor Corp site to build his power—he'd been all over the place. Including Belle Reeve. Lex was paying off the authorities to keep Klax-Ar a secret from the public. He'd told them it was to prevent panic until they knew what they were dealing with, but Clark knew the secrecy was actually because Lex was serious about Klax-Ar putting Clark's head on a platter and delivering it to him.

Lex believed he could convince Klax-Ar to join him in hunting Clark down. And that was even before Lex knew the guy that Klax-Ar was looking for, Kal-El, and Clark Kent were one in the same.

Clark had also seen the memories of Lex watching the security tapes from when Klax-Ar attacked Luthor Corp—it was bad, real bad. Clark saw enough to know that Klax-Ar had almost every power that he did, and obviously one more if he could take another's just by touching them. When it happened, there seemed to be an increase in Klax-Ar's power, but it didn't seem that he actually acquired that person's ability.

That was what Clark had been most worried about. It would've been like fighting every meteor freak he'd ever met, all at once. Not that this guy was going to be any less of a challenge, but at least it gave Clark an idea of what to expect. Now, unfortunately, Lana would have to know too. He hoped that having her watch the security tapes for herself a few times would take the shock out of when she first saw the real Klax-Ar. He definitely didn't look like a friendly guy—and he was huge! Clark figured him to be at least twice as bulky, and six inches taller than himself. A full eighteen inches taller than Lana.

Not exactly a fair fight, but there were TWO of them, and they'd be prepared—they had to be.

They avoided driving past the scene of Lex's "accident" but saw the flashing lights of an ambulance there. "Let's just hope the doctors think he has some sort of amnesia when he wakes up," Lana said. "Lex will be left to wonder, _Now, what was it that I've been so obsessed about this past year? I know it must've been something._"

Clark laughed, which surprised even himself. "Yeah, that may throw him for a loop," he said. "He always has to be obsessed about SOMETHING! I wish the guy would just relax and watch a football game every once in a while."

"Well, unless a team playbook has a strategy for global takeover," Lana said, "I doubt we're going to find him in front of a big screen with a six pack anytime soon. Football and a fine wine don't usually go together."

Clark parked the Hummer on the side of the road again—it was already risky enough having the other vehicles still on Lex's property. He x-rayed the area, saw that everything was all clear, then he and Lana sped inside. When they got there, Clark went to the basement to find as many boxes and crates and he could, then x-rayed every room, searching for evidence.

Lex had started another one of his "collector of the unexplained" rooms, which contained practically everything Lex claimed to have gotten rid of last year at this time. He'd never trashed it, just moved it. Clark piled everything into boxes, then sealed them up, setting the boxes in the hallway for Mr. Olsen's men to load into the moving van. It only took Clark thirty minutes to do everything, but then he felt like he had to watch in slow motion while the van was being packed. He wished he could've been doing it himself, but there were too many of Mr. Olsen's men around. Dang, he needed that Superman disguise! He knew they didn't have much more time.

"You about done, Chloe?" Clark asked, finding her at Lex's office desk.

"Yep," she answered, with a relieved smile. "Man this jerk had a ton of crap on you. And on Olsen Enterprises. Jimmy found a truckload of files and back up discs. Should we just take those with us?"

Clark nodded. "Yeah. I'm sure we'll snag stuff we don't need, but Lex needs a good spring cleaning anyway," he said. "Just take it back to the hideout and burn it, will you?"

She gave an affirmative nod as well. "Oh, and guess what Jimmy did—man, he's brilliant," she said, beaming as she put everything back in place on Lex's desk. "He tapped into the security system and rigged it so that we can have a continuous feed of what Lex is up to. Including his network here—we'll know about every email he sends and receives—every memo he writes."

"Sweet," Clark said, grinning. "I told you I liked Jimmy, didn't I? You definitely have my approval."

Chloe gave her darling smile, her eyes sparkling, and stood from the desk. "Alright, we'll see you guys back at Jimmy's place," Chloe said. "Mr. Olsen was picked up here a while ago—he's headed for Metropolis to get the security tapes. Lana told you about Lionel, right?"

Clark really hoped Mr. Olsen wouldn't watch the tapes—but knowing him . . .

"Lionel . . . right," he said. "I'll go check on him right now." He gave Chloe a big hug. "Thanks so much. You're the best friend a guy could ever hope for."

She looked up to his face. "And I'm happy to play that role in your life, Clark. I really am."

Lana walked in on them hugging and didn't feel even a tinge of discomfort. Clark was all hers, and she knew he always would be. "The van just pulled away," she said. "And Jimmy is waiting in the Hummer for you, Chlo."

They hugged too as Chloe left, and Lana expressed how much she appreciated her. Along with Clark, she also felt that she could never find another friend as loyal as Chloe was. They'd been through a lot together, and Chloe could've let her jealousy of Lana and Clark consume her—but she hadn't.

Lana had nothing but love for that girl.

Clark and Lana finally found the bedroom that Lionel was in. It looked like he'd been having some type of medical attention—he was on IV's—but there was no one in the room with him. Just as Mr. Olsen said, Lionel was mumbling, but it was more than what had previously been explained.

Lionel's eyes were opened wide, bloodshot and vacant. "He's coming for you, Kal-El," he said, his mouth sticky and dry. "He's coming. He will take what is left of the power of Krypton. He will seek his revenge on the house of El. He shall be the last son of Krypton. Only he."

Lana first let fear build inside her, then she chose to replace it with something else. "Oh, yeah," she said, leaning closer to Lionel and looking in his eyes—deep as a black hole. "You can transmit this little message back to him . . . he didn't count on a witch who's just dying to open up a can of whoop . . . "

She went on, and Clark felt his own courage building within him. Lana truly was his protector, in more than one way—she had protected him from further doubt about his destiny. Without her unwavering faith in him, he may have just given up on himself. He'd made so many mistakes, done so much that he wished he could reverse. But still, she was there, holding his hand as she trash talked to an alien . . . through a man in a coma.

Clark was going to become Superman, and he was going to save the planet. And for the very first time, he was looking forward to it.

"Why are you smiling again?" Lana asked, having finished her smack-down to find Clark with an enormous grin. "Don't laugh at me. I'm seriously gonna take Klax-Ar and stuff him into a tuna fish can."

Part 83:

"I'm not laughing, I swear," Clark said, his grin still enormous. "Like I've said before, I'm just darn glad that you're on MY side." He sure hoped she kept up this confidence after she saw the Luthor Corp security tapes—and especially when it came time to battle. Clark learned early into his crime-fighting days that fear was his biggest enemy. There wasn't time for it, not when just one lost second could cost you your life—or somebody else's.

"Well, it's always nice to be on the winning team, isn't it?" she asked, then looked back to Lionel. "Do you think he's really communicating with Klax-Ar?"

Clark shook his head. "I'm not sure, let me find out," he said, putting his hand on Lionel's sweaty forehead, then closing his eyes. The familiar glow appeared once more, and Lana stepped back, squinting into the brightness of the room.

Clark searched through Lionel's memories—he went way back—erasing his first suspicions of Clark . . . learning that Lionel knew about Clark's abilities long before Lex did . . . then he found where Lionel had first heard of the elements, by spying on Genevieve Teague years ago—they were partners in many corporate crimes, but rivals as well, always trying to outdo one another. The only elements he would leave as a memory for Lionel could be the ones easily found in a chemistry book—he wouldn't have to go to China, Egypt or Honduras to find them.

Clark then reached the memories of when Lionel was in his body, which made him cringe—Lana hadn't told him everything that Lionel had said and done to her—he felt like taking that dirty old man and . . . but then, he had to calm his emotions . . . concentrate on what he was doing so he wouldn't let anger destroy what was left of Lionel's mind . . . he'd faced that same potential slip before when he discovered Lex's feelings for Lana.

Lionel hadn't forgotten a single thing from when he had Clark's abilities. Once again, Clark had Mr. Olsen to thank for finding Lionel so he could do some serious damage control. He searched and erased everything he had to, then at last opened his eyes and turned back to Lana.

"Let's get out of here," he said, taking her hand. He super-sped to Lex's bedroom first, where he and Lana cleaned up the absolute disaster that Mr. Olsen had made of it, so no one would have reason to suspect anything had gone on in the house while they were gone. They then went down to Lex's remaining security guards, untied them, modified their memories, then put them back at their posts like nothing had happened.

When they reached the Hummer again, and had started driving, Lana finally asked, "So, what did you find out about Klax-Ar? How did Lionel know all of that?"

Clark was still trying to interpret it in his head, or he would've told her sooner. He was glad she was so patient with him, because just minutes before, he might have had to tell her that he had no idea.

"Well, this is what I think might have happened," he said. "Lionel had the water element in his pocket on the day of the last meteor shower. And if I'm right, it shocked him when I put the other stones together. Since he had the stone of transference, some type of knowledge passed to him from the stone. If you can believe it, he knew Kryptonian—his mind was speaking it! But I think it overloaded his brain—just like what happened to Dr. Walden—it was just too much for him."

"But then Dr. Walden woke up, right?" Lana said. "And went completely crazy."

"Exactly," Clark said. "Which I'm sure would've happened to Lionel as well. But he should be back to normal now. And I think he might have been picking up on Klax-Ar's brain waves somehow—strange as that sounds. But that's pretty much what Dr. Waldon was doing too, with Jor-El's messages to me. Waldon knew of my destiny, saying that the day was coming . . . that I would rule, basically, which made him want to stop me."

Lana shook her head, completely stunned. "We're going to have a really long life together, aren't we?" she said, foreseeing one bully after another trying to take down Clark. She finally managed a smile, and gripped his hand. "But, the longer the better."

They headed straight for Luthor Corp in Smallville, making sure the place was now empty. They'd passed a stream of Lex's vehicles on the way there, that were heading back to the mansion.

At Luthor Corp, Clark and Lana found the biggest treasure of all—Klax-Ar's spaceship. Lana nearly passed out at the sight of it, the fear of the moment she first saw it filling her again, but then she straightened up and faced it like a man—or a woman, rather.

"Where are we supposed to hide THIS?" Lana asked, walking around it.

"I'm sending it to the Fortress," Clark answered with a smile, feeling proud of himself for thinking about it, but at the same time hoping he could fit it through the cave entrance. "I'll be right back." Clark hefted the craft, and balanced it on his shoulders and head . . . then flew right out the hanger door, making him look like part of the ship itself.

Lana's mouth hung open for quite a while before she had enough breath to speak to herself. "That was SO cool," she said, thinking it was quite amazing that her future husband was a superhero. Of course, she had never thought anything less than that of Clark anyway. But as a young girl, she'd only stretched as far as imagining herself marrying a doctor or an attorney . . . that was until she fell in love with a farm boy. Who could've guessed she'd be so lucky. She was more than happy to marry Clark Kent in any package he came in.

"It's a good thing Mr. Olsen's guys fried the security system here," Lana said, when Clark returned for her.

"Yeah, that would've been another one of those awkward things to explain," Clark said, stretching out his back. Kryptonian metal was a lot heavier than he imagined. "And we'll need to find every other person who might have seen this thing. There's probably not that many, but . . . "

"I'm sure they're aren't. I imagine Lex kept this sort of discovery a bit of a secret," Lana said. "Just like everything else he does."

They left the plant, parked the Hummer just outside the Smallville town limits, then flew to Metropolis where they scoured Lex's office, along with Level 33.1. It was a good thing Lana was with Clark, because there was Kryptonite—both refined and in full meteor rock form—all over the place.

In a way, Klax-Ar had probably done Clark a huge favor. He doubted there were many meteor freaks left now—their powers were all siphoned. And now that Clark had erased Lex's memory of the special abilities Kryptonite gives to humans, he hoped he wouldn't have to deal with it anymore—with anything having to do with either of the meteor showers. He and Lana were determined to somehow rid Smallville of as much Kryptonite as possible. Wow, it was nice to have a partner . . . but of course, that was the smallest of the roles Lana would play in his life.

Clark and Lana stayed out all night, cleansing Lex's life of everything they could find relating to Clark's abilities—and Lana's as well. He would remember nothing of Isobel, or Genevieve Teague's murder. Not even of Jason's murder, nor Mr. Teague's—which Clark had at last confirmed were arranged by Lex, just as he suspected. That bad boy had been very busy in his role as evil mastermind. And Clark had an awful feeling that it wouldn't be long until Lex was back at it. But what they'd accomplished gave Clark more time to become Superman, capable of doing what he needed to do without someone like Lex or Lionel on his trail all the time.

That day might come, but not today. Not anymore.

Chloe found Clark and Lana sleeping on the couch the next day at noon. She'd heard them pull in the driveway around six that morning, and couldn't imagine all they'd been doing. They really were a good team . . . perfect for one another.

Clark opened his heavy eyes and tried to focus on Chloe. "Sorry," Chloe whispered. "You told me to wake you if you slept too long, and it's noon." She showed him the stack of DVDs in her hands.

He sat up, waking Lana without meaning to. "Yeah, we better get busy on those security tapes," Clark said. "We've got a lot of planning to do."

Another day of planning, Chloe thought. She couldn't wait until this was over. Well . . . it might be nice to be planning something else, something that included a lot of flowers. She shook her head when she discovered she was daydreaming about more than just Clark and Lana's wedding.

"Chlo, thanks again for last night," Lana said, standing and taking the DVDs from her. "I think we'll grab some food, then find somewhere to watch these—out of sight, if you don't mind."

"Yeah, great idea," Chloe answered. "Mr. Olsen is pacing in the kitchen, dying to watch them, but I, uhhh . . . encouraged him to resist."

Clark put his arm around her and gave a squeeze. "Maybe you three can get dressed in those black suits again and play Charlie's Angels," he said. "That would keep his mind off things."

Chloe rolled her eyes. "I'd do just about anything for you guys. But that crosses the line," she said. "How about I just bring you some food so you can avoid the kitchen area."

"Perfect, thanks!" Lana said, feeling the weight of the security footage in her hands. On their way down the hall to her bedroom, where she knew there was a DVD player, she paused and pushed Clark against the wall—just for good luck . . . it had worked yesterday. She kissed him once, and said, "Just so you know, I don't care what I see on these DVDs, we're going through with this—tonight. I'll be ready."

"Good," Clark said, returning her kiss. "Then let's get it done. Tomorrow morning we're going back to Smallville, and back to the rest of our life together."

Part 84:

They found the footage from the day that Klax-Ar invaded Level 33.1, and watched it several times. What they saw did prove to be a bit overwhelming at certain points, but by the time they were done, Clark and Lana both had on their battle faces, and discussed the final details of their strategy.

With night settling in, they knew it was time. Clark had feared that they'd have to fight Klax-Ar in the daylight where they risked more witnesses, because Lana had to have light to use her magic right. But yesterday, when they were messing around with all of Mr. Olsen's heist gadgets, Lana took some night vision goggles into the closet with her, and found that she could do magic just fine in the dark.

Clark was definitely thinking the same thing . . . but she'd now taken the buttons off a second shirt . . . his mom was going to have some serious questions for him.

Oh well, it was all in the name of duty . . . well, at least at first.

Chloe gave them big hugs on their way out the door, with Jimmy thinking they were just off for another night of searching through Lex's things . . . he knew they couldn't have gotten that all done in one trip, right?

"Are you sure you don't need me for anything?" Chloe asked, several times. It was always a confident, "No, thanks" from both of them. Chloe couldn't help but wonder how Klax-Ar even stood a chance against them. In their black suits again, and with the looks of renegade demons on their faces, she knew they were ready to go.

When they reached the cave, having driven the Hummer so Clark could save his energy as much as possible, Clark took the Kryptonian key from his pocket and looked at it closely. "Jor-El told me this should call out to him—just as it has to me so many times," he said. "I just need to put it in a different slot than the one that operates the passage way to the Fortress . . . which is different still from the one that we'll use to send Klax-Ar to the Phantom Zone." He pointed to a small crevice a few feet from where they were standing.

"Okay, let me make sure I have this down," Lana said, going through the sequence of events. At last, she said. "When he's standing close enough to the Phantom Zone passage way, I'll put it in this slot, right?"

"Right," Clark said with a confident nod. She knew exactly what to do, at exactly what time. Now if only he could know his own plans that well. He knew they shared similar abilities, but Clark had much more experience, so he hoped that would make up for the power advantage Klax-Ar seemed to have over him.

He ran his hand along the cave wall, remembering what it felt like to be sucked into the Phantom Zone last summer, where Jor-El reprogrammed him as Kal-El. He had only a few memories of the place . . . it was dark, and without boarders, with literally nothing but distant stars to look at for as far as he could see. He'd existed as only some type of wraith, needing no nutrition or air. And what was really strange, was that he could sense the presence of others there—but he couldn't see them. It was like they were trying to communicate with him telepathically. He knew right off that they were criminals from Krypton, and shut his mind to them. But he could not do the same to his father, who did with him what he wished, but thankfully, released him back to Earth.

That was a privilege that Klax-Ar wouldn't have. If they could banish him there—where he belonged, he'd be stuck there.

He turned around to see Lana levitating the trunk of Kryptonite—not an easy feat for a girl who barely weighed a hundred pounds, but then, this wasn't a typical girl. "I need to get everything ready, Clark, can I have a kiss?" she asked, with a beautiful smile that was illuminated by the moonlight.

He walked over and took her in his arms, the trunk dropping to the ground. "Lots and lots of them," he said, making good on his promise. "I love you, and I know we're going to kick that guy to kingdom come . . . well, at least to the Phantom Zone."

Lana touched his face, running her hands along his cheek bones, and into his soft hair. "Clark, I could never hope to truly repay you for all you've done, both to save my life—countless times—and otherwise," she said. "But I hope you'll always remember this as the night that I tried."

Clark smiled, remembering a moment that had been previously painful until that very moment. "Lana, you never had to try," he said. "You've already saved me."

She kissed him. "I love you," she said. "Now, get out there and take him down." She laughed as he went to walk away, then did what was natural for any coach—she gave his butt a good slap.

He turned back. "Daaaannngggg! Now that dude's really in trouble," he said, strutting off. "I got my groove on."

Part 85:

Ten minutes later, having scattered Kryptonite where she and Clark had previously decided to, Lana stood back from the cave wall with the key in her hand, and sent it zooming into the key slot.

Clark grabbed his ears, standing outside of the cave, and started searching the sky—waiting to see if it would call out to Klax-Ar as well, luring him to where he would surely find something that had to do with Krypton. Hopefully he wouldn't suspect it to be a trap.

In the cave, Lana went back into the shadows and put on her night vision goggles, which, other than the green glow that they gave, were high-tech enough that she almost felt like she was using her natural eyes. Only a few minutes passed until Lana heard something that terrified her—but she quickly recovered, feeling her arms burn, ready to do some serious damage.

The voice was so loud, that it shook the cave walls, making rocks fall off the ledges to the ground. "Kal-El! Come to me, surrender your powers," Klax-Ar yelled, his mouth wide.

Clark stepped out of the shadow of a large tree, knowing he couldn't be aggressive until he had to. He didn't want to chance Klax-Ar taking his powers by touching him. When Klax-Ar saw him, he cackled even louder than before. "You look just like your smug father!" he said.

Clark gave a proud grin, like it was meant as a compliment. "And you look like the backside of a goat," he said, laughing back. "Now, let's play!"

He super-sped off, with Klax-Ar following him, and tried to get him confused by flying, then dropping—completely disappearing at times, as he hid in many of the secluded spots he knew so well around the caves.

Klax-Ar tried to fire at him with his eyes, but Clark was expecting it. This was when his experience came into play. He knew exactly the right moment to speed off . . . when Klax-Ar's eyes were still adjusting from the blur the fire caused as it left.

Lana was back in the cave, having summoned the key to her once more, and went to stand in one of the piles of Kryptonite she'd made on a hill outside of the cave—waiting for Clark to lure him back. She had to keep the key away from Klax-Ar, and she also had to keep Clark away from the Kryptonite as she hurled it around. Tricky, but achievable, she kept reminding herself.

Soon, she saw the two of them speeding in her direction, Clark making a huge wall of thick ice behind him, which delayed Klax-Ar just a few seconds until he burst through it—chunks flying in every direction—sending Lana to the ground as she tried to avoid them.

When Klax-Ar found his bearings, looking around—his huge chest puffing in and out, Clark was gone. He still hadn't noticed Lana on the hill, so this was 'go time' for her.

She stood upright, and made the full pile of Kryptonite hover in front of her . . . then sent them all racing through the air toward Klax-Ar. Only a few hit him, making him stumble, before he realized what was going on and sped off . . . in Lana's direction.

"Damn!" Clark said in a panic, racing off to intercept his path.

His large ugly face screamed at Lana, but Klax-Ar stopped short of reaching her when he saw the glow of her Kryptonite ring, and the large green crystal she held in her other hand. She gave him a strong enough shock that it sent him backward.

"You're a witch!" Klax-Ar screamed, his mouth opened wide again, getting to his feet.

"And you're a loud mouth!" she said, walking toward with him confidence. She reached her hand out to send another shock, but Klax-Ar shot fire in her direction.

Clark got there just in time to stand between the hot flames and Lana—the fire hitting his chest and spreading like a fan around him. It blocked Klax-Ar's view just enough that he didn't see Lana escape to inside the cave—she HAD to get him down there. NOW!

She started running the very second Clark arrived, getting the Kryptonite as far away as possible. Klax-Ar made a dive for Clark, and Clark left him in the dust, speeding toward the cave. "Get ready!" he said as he passed, which Lana knew meant she had to go set the trap—but if Klax-Ar could so easily avoid her Kryptonite hurling before, what was she going to do?

Think like Isobel, think like Isobel, she said, over and over to herself, knowing she had to summon all of the power within her to pull this off. She wished for just one second that she had seen Isobel do more magic than she'd seen in her one day of memories after Gertrude had sucked her dry.

Klax-Ar came to the mouth of the cave, about twenty feet from where Lana was hiding. He looked around and roared for Clark again. Clark appeared out of nowhere, slamming Klax-Ar into the cave wall, and ripping his Luthor Corp lab coat off—a stupid disguise for an alien—his clothing underneath was the strangest material she'd ever seen—it shimmered with flecks of silver.

Klax-Ar reached out for Clark, trying to grip onto his arm as Clark was momentarily caught off guard.

He was trying to take his powers! "Don't let him touch you!" Lana screamed.

Klax-Ar looked up in shock, just long enough for Clark to escape, trying hard to stay away from the scattered Kryptonite throughout the cave.

Klax-Ar huffed, directing his eyes toward Lana's scream. It was then that Lana saw a curious band on Klax-Ar's arm, now that the lab coat was gone. It reflected the moonlight in a way that sparked a not so distant memory for her—of Kal and Isobel in the forest the night he showed her the stone of transference.

And . . . then . . . she . . . knew! She knew how Klax-Ar was siphoning powers. His arm band was made out of the same Kryptonian element as the stone of transference!

"Hear me, Clark!" she screamed, which was their planned code for him to turn on his super hearing. "I need the lab coat!" she whispered now.

Clark sped faster than he ever had, grabbing the lab coat and placing it in her hands before Klax-Ar could even blink.

Klax-Ar took off toward her, his mouth open wide—yelling again as she expected. Lana was one step ahead of him, sending the Kryptonite ring off her finger right into the back of his throat. She then summoned as many meteor rocks as she could while she was racing toward him, and piled them around Klax-Ar as he fell to his knees, choking on the ring.

Clark stood in the background, at the ready—and almost lurched ahead when he realized she was going right up to Klax-Ar. What was she doing?

Lana grasped Klax-Ar's arm band, and with the lab coat secured in her other hand, she demanded in her mind that Klax-Ar's power be transferred into the coat. She felt a race of fire go through her, then the coat flew out of her hand.

"Burn it!" Lana screamed—thinking back to when Kal had done the same thing with Isobel's cloak—to get rid of Gertrude's powers.

Clark wasn't going to ask any questions, as stunned as he was. His eyes lit up, and he shot fire at the lab coat, charring it in a matter of seconds.

Klax-Ar fell face forward into the pile of Kryptonite, but it wasn't needed now. Lana summoned the ring out of his throat . . . swept away all the rocks with a strong swish of her arms . . . and propelled her Kryptonite crystal into the far corner of the cave.

Clark raced over and hefted the weak man above his head—who felt almost as heavy as the spaceship.

"Let's do it!" he said, exhausted, but smiling.

Lana took the key from her pocket, and sent it racing into the right slot in the cave wall. It opened up a hole of brilliant light—she could barely squint against it, even in the night goggles.

Clark tossed Klax-Ar half the length of the cave, to make him disappear through the hole . . . and he was gone.

Part 86:

**_Ten Weeks Later_**

Summer was gone, and it was definitely a time that would be missed. It had been the best months of both Clark and Lana's lives—filled with sweeter memories than any they had ever shared combined.

With the entire town of Smallville a complete mess after the meteor storm, there had been plenty of clean-up work available for them to both earn money for their future. They definitely worked hard, but every spare moment of their time was spent together. This was made much easier by the fact that Clark's parents insisted Lana move out of the Talon apartment, and into their home.

Clark was supposed to be sleeping on the couch by himself, but Lana would most often fall asleep in his arms there, then he'd eventually carry her up to her bed—where he'd watch her sleep until not even his super-strength could keep his eyes open any longer.

This routine often followed some very interesting—and super-secretive—dates they'd been going on the past couple of months. To help Clark deal with the guilt that he felt from the meteor shower causing such chaos in the lives of so many people—Lana thought of an idea one night, and they'd been following through with it as much as they could.

Mr. Olsen had let them keep their black outfits (which Clark was VERY happy about) as well as the night vision goggles . . . so Clark and Lana would go about town after dark, like secret elves, and fix as much damage as possible.

They figured that between their day jobs, and running around at night, they'd been responsible for half the clean-up in Smallville. As they cleaned, Lana would fill up the lead trunk they still had with Kryptonite, and she and Clark would take it to the cave, and banish it to the Phantom Zone. Lana practiced her magic more and more in the dark, and soon didn't even need the night vision goggles.

One evening, Jonathan found Clark sneaking out of Lana's bedroom at three in the morning. It wasn't the first time he'd known Clark was in there, but it was time Clark knew that his parents had been having a lot of discussions about he and Lana.

"Son, we need to have a talk," Jonathan whispered, following Clark down the stairs.

Clark whirled around, startled. "Dad, it's not how it looks," he said.

"Yeah, I think it is, Clark," Jonathan said, reaching the bottom of the stairs where Clark was standing. "Let's sit on the couch and talk man to man. It's about time."

Okay, Clark thought, they'd already had THAT talk long ago, so what was this all about? Clark sat on the couch and looked over when his dad joined him. "Seriously, I was sitting in the chair, just watching her sleep. That's all."

Jonathan put his hand on Clark's shoulder. "I know, I know. You're not in trouble," he said, having spotted Clark in the chair several times in the past couple of months. "That's why it's important for me to finally tell you what your mother and I have been discussing."

Clark could see his smile now. "Yeah, I'd definitely like to know what you guys really think of all this," he said. "You've been so supportive, and I'm grateful for that. But I'm sure it's made you a bit nervous at times—but we've behaved ourselves, so you don't have to worry."

"Which is exactly why we think you two are perfect for one another," Jonathan said. "You made a promise to each other—which you told us about early in the summer—and you've stuck to it, no matter how difficult it's been."

And still is, Clark thought, letting out a heavy breath. "Yeah, difficult would be putting it mildly," he said. "But . . . " This was where he didn't dare go on, he wanted to see if his dad brought it up first.

"But, the fact is, you're very much in love," Jonathan said, nodding and remembering what it felt like to be going through what Clark was. "And there's no reason you two shouldn't be together—as a married couple."

Clark's mouth literally fell open. He squinted at his dad. "You're not going to tell me that we're too young, because I know that's what most people think, but are we just supposed to sit around and count birthdays so the rest of society can tell us we're ready for it?"

Jonathan laughed, knowing Clark must've been planning that defense for a while now. "Well, just so you know, your mother and I weren't much older than you two when we married, and things have turned out perfectly," he said. "So you can just sit around, as you said, and count your birthdays, or you can accept our blessings—our encouragement, rather, and take that girl you love as your wife. It's up to you."

Clark stood from the couch—well, more like jumped. "Are you serious?" he asked, his smile so big that his teeth practically glowed in the dark. "Because I've been holding back talking to you about it until I could make this big case in our favor—one that you couldn't dispute, and now you're totally giving your blessing out of no where?" Clark stopped pacing and faced him. "I've gotta tell Lana right now!"

"Wait just a minute," Jonathan said, grinning as he felt Clark's excitement like warm coals on his chest. "I'm not quite done yet. There's no reason to wake her until you've got the full scoop."

What else mattered? Clark thought. But then, he was certain he knew. "Now you're going to ask how I plan on providing for the two of us, aren't you?" he asked. "And then you're going to ask if I still plan on starting school next week . . . and how I plan to have a job, attend classes, study, help on the farm, and be a devoted husband."

Jonathan started laughing again. "Either I know you, or you know me, much too well!" he said, patting the couch again so Clark would sit—which he did. "Let's just tackle the list one at a time, okay? You're not the only one who's been trying to sort through this."

Clark smiled, thinking for the umpteenth time in his life, that he truly had the most amazing parents on the planet—or on any planet. "Then by all means, give me your ideas."

"First of all, a lot of men find ways to provide for a family while attending college," Jonathan said. "And if anyone can do it, you can. Just think, you'll able to get your work around the farm done in practically no time at all—which I'll continue to pay you for—and as far as additional work, I really think you should take Mr. Olsen up on his offer to freelance write for the Daily Planet. He sees talent in your work, just as I do."

"Really?" Clark asked. Chloe had taken the liberty to show Mr. Olsen some past Torch issues, and he'd really been impressed with Clark's articles, much to Clark's surprise. "I'd thought about it, because getting an inside scoop on crimes wouldn't be that difficult for me. And that way, at least I'd be home with Lana while I wrote the articles. He said that I wouldn't have to work in the office until I wanted to. He knows how important school is to me."

"And how important Lana is to you as well," Jonathan said. "That man is a piece of work, I'll tell you. He's probably called me ten times in the last month, asking if you two were engaged yet. He didn't want to put any more pressure on you, so instead . . . "

"You're the one who's getting the ear full, huh? I wondered why he'd laid off of me," Clark said, grinning. He and Lana had seen Mr. Olsen several times over the summer, and they'd double dated with Chloe and Jimmy many times as well, whose relationship was getting more serious by the day. In fact, Jimmy had already told him that they were talking about marrying next summer. Clark and Lana wouldn't wait that long. They'd get married as soon as they could reasonably pull together a wedding that would give Lana a lifetime of memories to look back on.

"Clark, if you and Lana had arrived home before your mom and I went to bed, I would've told you this," Jonathan said, "but Mr. Olsen has offered you an Olsen Enterprises Scholarship to Central Kansas—just like the one Chloe received to Met U."

"What?" Clark asked, feeling both a burden lifted, and another one gained. "As much as I'd like to, I can't accept that. I'd rather have to pay back the student loans I'm taking out, then take a journalism scholarship away from someone who deserves it much more than myself."

"The scholarship isn't for journalism," Jonathan said. "It's for . . . " he laughed. "To quote his exact words, 'Saving his tushy!'"

"His tushy," Clark said, blinking once. "How exactly will Central Kansas process a scholarship with that name?"

Jonathan shrugged. "Mr. Olsen said he doesn't have to explain what the scholarship is for, money is money," he said. "He's just grateful that Lex has been nothing but hugs and bunnies with him since you 'fixed him'. There's a scholarship waiting for Lana as well, if she decides to take it in the future."

Clark nodded. "That's amazing," he said, wishing Lex had indeed had a true personality change, but he was a whole lot better than before—to everyone—Mr. Olsen, Clark and Lana, and Chloe. "So, Dad, maybe it's a good time to tell you that I already have a ring. Lana picked it out last month, and I used my savings for it. So the only question is, where can we live?" Clark was afraid his dad would tell him they could stay in Clark's bedroom, which was generous, but completely out of the question. "I don't think we can afford a decent place yet. I know it's kinda crazy, but can we work out something with the loft?"

"I'm way ahead of you, Clark," his dad answered. "We've got plenty of acreage here that isn't being used. Why don't the two of us build a home for you and Lana? It will be small at first, but we'll design it so we can add on as the years go by."

As long as it was big enough for a narrow hallway, a large closet, and a bedroom, Clark and Lana would be perfectly happy.

Part 87:

"Just go try it on," Lana said the next morning, attempting to hide a smile as she looked over Martha's masterpiece—which Clark was holding up to his body, his face as red as the cape attached to it. "You're gonna look so hot, I know it."

There was a firm knock on the kitchen door, and Clark super-sped out of the living room, stuffed the Superman suit in his room, and was back before Lana even took a step toward the door.

"Hey, Lex," Clark said as he opened the door, thinking he would've had to do a bit more memory modifying if Lex had caught him with the suit.

"Hey, yourself, stranger," Lex answered, then looked over to Lana, who was trying to manage a sincere smile. "How's the happy couple?"

"Still very happy," Lana said, knowing she had to really play up this moment. "It seems like forever since we've seen you! You look great."

"Yes, but still bald," Lex said with a laugh, running his hand over his bare head. "We've really been playing phone tag this summer, haven't we, Clark?"

"I know," Clark said, looking shocked. "It's crazy. We just can't seem to get our schedules together."

Lex nodded. "That's why I stopped by—didn't want to chance getting your voice mail again," he said. "But here you are, live and in person. I'd love to take you guys to lunch today, if you can manage the time."

Lana looked sideways at Clark, still giving her 'everything is perfect with the world' grin.

He glanced to her, then to Lex. "Actually, today's not a very good time, umm," he said, putting his hand on Lex's arm and starting to walk out the kitchen door, "Why don't you come out to the barn with me, I've gotta get something . . . we'll be right back, Lana."

Lana didn't think much of it, knowing Clark was just trying to get rid of Lex, but what she didn't know was that he was trying to fool her as well. He had to have an excuse to go to the barn without her.

Lex followed Clark's lead, walking across the lawn to the barn. "For two new grads, you guys sure have busy schedules," he said with a sincere smile. "Can you pencil me in sometime next spring?"

The truth was, that they had been busy, but they'd also been avoiding Lex on purpose while still remaining friendly through phone calls so he wouldn't think they were dropping him like a rock. Clark wanted to lessen the chance of Lex becoming curious about him again. As long as their relationship was mostly over phone calls—pretending that their schedules didn't allow for more personal visits—then Clark would definitely decrease his chances of being put in a 'ability exposing' situation.

He was also anxious to keep Lana away from him, so Lex's feelings for her would fade. Though Clark had erased a lot of their more personal moments together, affection isn't something that is just gained through memories, it's developed from compiled opinion and experiences with a person. So unless he'd erased every memory Lex had of Lana, he knew that a lot of those feelings for her would remain.

"Next spring, huh?" Clark asked, when they entered the barn. "Have I really been that pathetic? I'm sorry, but this has been the craziest summer of my life—I've been working non-stop, and well . . . " he glanced toward the house.

"You're in love," Lex answered for him. "Which means you can barely manage breathing right now, let alone lunch with a friend. Believe me, I understand."

"You do?" Clark asked, noticing the curious shimmer in Lex's eyes. "You've met someone, haven't you?"

Lex nodded with a huge smile. "She's amazing," he said. "She makes my world spin—in a good way, of course."

"Sounds like the girl's got you in a golden lasso," Clark said, truly happy for Lex. Maybe if he couldn't save him, someone else could. "What's her name?"

"Diana Prince," he said. "I met her at a leadership lecture a few weeks ago—she was the speaker. And you know me, I can't help but be drawn in by a dark-haired beauty. And she's got these gorgeous blue eyes—I just couldn't stop looking at her, and we've been out almost every night since. She's fascinating."

"She seems like a wonderful woman," Clark said, gripping Lex's shoulder, and feeling grateful that he had someone else to be fascinated with. "Hope we get to meet her sometime soon."

"Oh, you will, I guarantee it," Lex said. "I plan on having her in my life for a very long time."

Lex left Clark with a feeling of ease that set the rest of his day up perfectly. This was the day that would change his life forever.

With this in mind, he knew he had to hurry and search through Lana's boxes before she noticed he was still out there, and Lex was now gone. When Lana had moved there, she only took what she 'absolutely needed' into the house—which turned out to be four times the size of Clark's wardrobe, but he thought that made her all the cuter—but this left box after box of more of her belongs being stored in the barn to look through to find the two items he needed. It was a good thing he had x-ray vision and super-speed, or he would've been there forever . . . man, that girl had a lot of clothes.

So much for using their large closet for entertainment—they'd need that one, and four others just to hang her wardrobe. But maybe Lana's love for closet action would inspire her to downsize, and give some to charity. A man could only hope.

Just as Clark had found what he was looking for, Lana entered the barn, and he had to hide them. "What are you doing, Clark?" She asked, smiling at the look of guilt he had on his face.

"Nothing," he said quickly. "I was, uhh . . . "

"Hiding something from me?" she asked, running her hands along Clark's waist and behind his back. "C'mon, what do you have?"

Clark smiled, knowing he'd fooled her. She hadn't seen him speed off to hide the items. "Nothing, I said," he repeated, showing his empty hands. "I was just . . . hey, didn't I tell you that I had a big date planned? I thought you were going to shower."

"I am," she said. "But since you're being so secretive about where were going on this day-long adventure, I wasn't sure what clothes to take into the bathroom with me. Casual, fancy, what?"

"Umm, how about just 'sexy,'" he said. "Which you do really well. And just make sure you have long pants on—that's the only requirement."

"Really?" she asked with a smile, which took a sec for Clark to catch on to.

"Don't tease me," he said, bringing her into his arms and kissing her. "You do enough of that by walking around in that hot little pajama number you're wearing."

Lana looked down at the grey leggings and tight-white tee she had on. "What these?" she asked, truly not understanding why Clark found the thrown together pajama set attractive.

Clark scooped her up and super-sped to the loft, where they were on the couch before Lana knew it. "Yes, THOSE . . . dang you," he said, starting to kiss her again. "Now we're never gonna make it on our date."

But eventually they did, thank heaven, or Clark would've been crushed. Though he'd just decided after his talk with Jonathan last night, that today was the day, he'd been planning this in great detail for months—and partially before then. He'd been imagining how he'd propose to Lana for years.

Part 88:

By noon, they were off on their date, and Martha and Jonathan gave Clark a secretive wink.

Clark suddenly had a flock of butterflies flying around in him. He'd decided not to tell Lana about his conversation with his dad last night—he wanted this to be a complete surprise, and she didn't even seem suspicious—except for one thing.

"Okay, why did you bring your backpack?" she asked, as he led her out the door by the hand.

"We're going to have a picnic," he said, which was true, but it was only a minor reason to have brought his backpack. "In the field." He started walking toward the space between his home, and where Lana grew up.

"In the field?" she asked, laughing. "As in the same field that has a million grasshoppers this time of year?"

"Exactly," he said with a grin.

And then she caught on. "Oh, you're taking me where we used to play as kids?" she asked, feeling her insides warm. "Any particular reason why?"

He kissed her cheek. "Because I love you," he said. "That's good enough, isn't it?"

She nodded. "Just as long as you take that back pack off and give me a ride," she said, thankful that Clark had told her to wear long pants, but also knowing how high those bugs could jump. "I'll be fine."

He threw the backpack over his shoulder and she leapt on his back. When they approached the particular area that Clark was sure was the place he once presented her with grasshopper, Lana saw the Kent truck parked there.

"Today, I thought I'd try to make up for a few of the things that I wish I'd done differently," he said. "Starting with the day I tried to impress you with the gift of a grasshopper. Which didn't turn out exactly how I planned."

He helped her into the bed of the truck, then put her all the way on top of the truck cab. "Oh, this is MUCH better," she said, looking down at the pouncing insects way below them. "I think you've grown a bit in the romance department since then."

"I hope so," he said, super-speeding off for a moment, then coming back to her side with his hand behind his back. She jumped, waiting for the surprise she was sure he had. "It's not a bug this time, don't worry." He brought his hand forward and gave her a single white daisy, spinning it between his fingers. "I probably should've asked my mom what girls like better, flowers or grasshoppers, but I hope this makes up for it."

Lana's smile almost took up her entire face. "It definitely does," she said, then leaned in to give him a small peck on the cheek—just like she would've done as a young girl if he'd done this very thing.

When they'd finished their picnic atop the truck, Clark replaced his backpack, and jumped into the truck bed, holding his hands out for her. She slid into his arms. "That was a yummy lunch," she said. "Tell your mother thank you!"

Clark gave a look of mock pain. "Well, I was going to make it myself, but when she saw the time was getting close to leave, she stepped in to save the day," he said. "You and I were, uhh, a little busy in the loft, if you don't remember."

She tipped her head. "Why, no, I don't remember," she said, standing on tiptoes to reach his lips. "Why don't you remind me."

He did so, but then he held onto her tightly, and sped off. When she recognized the familiar buzz of super-speeding, she opened her eyes . . . and it was pitch dark. "Uhh, hello?" she asked. "Where exactly are we?"

Clark laughed, his lips still on hers. "In Pete's closet," he said, whispering. "But I think his dad might be home, so we've got to be quiet."

She whispered, "No problem." And it definitely wasn't a problem at all, they knew how to be VERY quiet when they needed to be. They'd had a lot of closet time over the summer, but nothing felt quite like the original one where they had both been hoping for their first kiss—and they more than made up for.

After another "make up" kiss on her aunt Nell's porch, they were off to the windmill, where Clark also made up for another time he'd wanted so desperately to kiss her again, after his eventful seduction at the pool when Lana was influenced by the Nicodemus flower.

"All I kept thinking about was how much I wished it had been real," Clark told her now, as they looked over the acres and acres of Smallville fields. "I'd been wanting to have that moment with you for so long—I mean not the red underwear part, well, okay maybe that part—but mostly the kiss . . . and then you couldn't even remember it."

Lana rested her head on his shoulder, feeling the fresh breeze cleanse her. "But, Clark, the flower only gave me the courage to do what I wanted to do," she said. "Which proves that I'd been wanting that moment to happen for a long time as well."

Clark smiled, tipping her head so their lips met, just as he'd hoped for that day. "Then I should've told you right then, that I was so madly in love with you that I couldn't see straight," he said. "And that it was a darn good thing that I didn't have my heat-vision by then, or you would've been dodging fire beams as you strutted around on that diving board, trust me."

"The question is, then, did you have your x-ray vision by that time?" she asked, squinting with mock accusation.

Clark laughed, and gave her another kiss. "Yes, but believe me, I didn't need it."

She backhanded his arm. "My one and only moment as an exhibitionist, and you were there for it! Nice."

"Well, actually, I did have this dream once of skinny dipping with you at Crater Lake," he said, his cheeks warm. Lately, he'd been surprised how easy it was to be entirely honest with her, even about things like this.

Lana giggled. "So, what would say if I told you I already knew that," she said, gasping. "Sarah told me all about those dreams you had while she was entering them."

"What?" Clark said, truly shocked—but knowing Sarah wouldn't have told Lana about his powers. "When?"

"Umm, Clark," she said. "Didn't you notice how many times I visited her at the hospital?"

"Well, yes," he said, "but . . . " Clark didn't even have a response for that. Lana had known for years that he was having dreams of skinny dipping with her . . . okay, that really WAS embarrassing.

He stepped off the windmill—hovering in the air. "So, as long as we're trying to make up for lost opportunities, let's uhh . . . head over to crater lake," Clark said, trying to sound serious.

Lana gave a big sassy grin, and repeated the words that were once used as a hint that Sarah had already told her what she wanted to know. "Maybe in your dreams, Clark," she said, then also stepped off the windmill, where he caught her and they hovered above the ground. "Anywhere else you want to take me, flyboy?"

Clark nodded with enthusiasm. "As long as you promise me a date to Crater Lake in the near future," he said, hovering further away from the windmill.

She kissed his neck. "Haven't I already told you that I want to make your dreams come true?" she said. "Even your wildest ones."

Clark couldn't even fly after that, and drifted down until he landed in the field, where they spent a lot more time than Clark planned for, but oh well. It was all about making this day special, and so far, it was the best day of his life.

Some of the most well-planned events get even better when spontaneity steps in.

Clark finally reached in his backpack—pulling out a pony-tail holder and handing it to Lana. She put it in, knowing what it was for. "Wow, you've thought of everything today, haven't you?"

He smiled, and hoped she was right. "Okay, hold on," Clark said. "I think my rockets are fired up again."

Part 89:

He shot off into the sky, which was still filled with sunlight . . . but he'd figured something out the past couple of months while he practiced flying. If he stayed directly in line with the sun, its brightness hid him from onlookers below. Both Lana and his parents had promised him that. He wasn't planning on day-flying on a regular basis, just in case, but this was a special occasion.

Clark had to be very careful about where he landed in Metropolis, so he'd avoid being thought of on radars as a plane. He stopped outside the city limits, then super-sped as close to his destination as he could without being seen by the busy crowd. When Lana looked around, she saw a familiar, and painful, site. They were at the airport.

She took the pony tail holder out, letting her wavy hair flow off her shoulders. Was he doing what she thought he was?

Clark took Lana's hand and they started walking to the terminal that she had left for Paris from. Her eyes were already filling with tears by the time he told her, "Stay right here," then walked across the road to where she had once seen him for only a brief moment with a white rose in his hand.

Lana blinked at the real Clark now, watching him standing there once more . . . with a white rose. Clark had lots of surprises for her in his backpack, she thought, then was taken up again in the moment from just over a year ago, when her heart felt like it would shatter. All she'd needed was for him to be there . . . and she would've gone back home with him.

Feeling the same lump in her throat, she watched as Clark walked across the road toward her. For a moment, she made a motion to set her luggage down . . . she was that caught up in the memory . . . of seeing what she so desperately wanted to see that fateful day.

Clark approached her with the rose, and she took it, unable to speak. "Lana, I'm so sorry I didn't make it in time to pick you up," he said, also feeling the pain in his gut that he felt for losing her in that dreadful moment. "But I'm here to ask you to come back home. Please don't leave me. I am so in love with you, Lana, and I can't live another moment without you at my side."

"Neither can I," Lana finally managed to say, wrapping her arms around him and crying into his chest.

They kissed several times, then hugged again . . . and then a loud applause broke out.

Clark and Lana glanced around, to find a crowd of cheering onlookers. "Way to go, man!" one guy said. "That's the way to get your girl back!" An older woman came over and patted Lana on the back, whispering, "He's a keeper."

Clark was so high, he felt like dropping to his knee right then, but he hoped that he had something even better planned. He wondered, though, how anything could be better than what he was feeling . . . he knew that Lana, totally and completely, had forgiven him of everything he'd done to hurt her. And that was the best feeling he'd ever known. He could've chosen to take her dozens of other places to try to atone for everything he'd done, but right there at the airport, he knew it had been taken care of in one shot.

"I think this guy wants your autograph," Lana said, laughing as another onlooker about their age gawked at the two of them in awe, then snapped a picture.

"Maybe another day," he said, as they waved to the crowd and walked off. "I've got one more place to take you."

"Clark, not that I don't want to go," she said, smelling her beautiful white rose. "But that airport scene was the most romantic moment of my life."

"You don't think I can top it, huh?" he asked, leading her around the corner, so they could super-speed away from their new fans.

Lana smiled. "I've learned that I should never doubt you again," she said, wrapping her arms around him and holding on.

Clark once more ran to where he thought he could stay out of sight, then flew them back to Smallville. It was a long way to have gone to say something he'd pretty much said before, but the fact that he'd done it at the airport made the apology much more authentic for him. And he truly wanted to replace those old memories he had, with something that had been his intention all along when he went after her that day.

Lana was going home with him . . . where she belonged.

When they arrived in the cave, Lana laughed. "Oh, now you want me to work you over like Isobel once did, don't you?" she said, having always imagined that the torture took place in the caves where she'd woken up.

"Yes, that would be nice, but that actually took place in the barn," he said with a smile. "So we'll save that for later. Right now, all I want you to do is put these on." He reached into his backpack and took out her snow boots and winter jacket."

She gasped. "No way!"

"Yep," he said, kissing the top of her head. "Come along, my little snow bunny, let's go."

Lana's hands were shaking as she put on her boots and jacket. "Are you sure?" she asked. "Did Jor-El say I could come?"

Clark smiled, his insides ready to burst. "Yep, he said as long as I'm not in danger from an alien threat—so that I won't hide my protector in the Fortress and run off without you, you can come with me from now on," he answered.

She swallowed hard, both excited and nervous for the big moment, and Clark inserted the key into the cave wall. Clark held onto her tightly, which made her finally say, "I thought you told your parents that it wasn't dangerous—is this going to hurt?"

He laughed. "No, but can't a guy get a little action while he's being space-warped?"

She locked her lips with his. "Darn straight he can."

The swirling sensation Lana was expecting never came—she felt entirely comfortable. She only realized they were in the Fortress when a brilliant white light pressed against her eyes, and she opened them slowly.

Lana couldn't speak for a full minute, taking in the beauty around her. It was like a castle made of ice—crystal pillars jetting out every which way. "Oh, my . . . Clark! You built this?" she asked.

"Well, kind of," he said. "The first crystal—from the stones, did most of the work, then I just manipulated a few things here and there." He walked her over to the bedroom he'd made, and tossed her onto the bed, which looked to be made of solid ice, but she easily sunk into it. "And after I learned some of the knowledge from the stones, I was able to make a lot more. Like this bed and the chamber over there . . . where I can talk to my biological parents."

Lana's eyes widened, and she shifted her attention to the chamber. "Both of them?" she asked. "Clark, are you saying that . . . "

He nodded. "Yep, I met Lara last week," he said, wanting to surprise her. "After Jor-El and I came to an understanding."

Lana wasn't sure she liked the sound of that. "What KIND of understanding?"

Part 90 – **The Finale**:

He took her hand and led her toward the chamber, talking along the way. "The kind where I start giving him a few challenges, just like he's given me over the past few years," he said. "Let's just say we have a relationship of mutual respect now—where we're more like partners. I do things for him, and he does things for me."

This could be really good news, Lana thought—but then again, this was Jor-El, so she couldn't help but still have a little doubt. "Like what?"

"Well, I made an oath that I would continue to fight off the evil that threatens Earth," he said. "And he allowed me to meet Lara—who was withheld from me before because Jor-El thought she wouldn't be hard enough on me. And he was right—she's the most soft spoken woman you could imagine—and so beautiful, just like my real mom."

Martha and Jonathan were his REAL parents—they always would be.

"But, even before then, earlier in the summer," Clark continued, "I gave Jor-El a task that he agreed to work on, but didn't make any promises. He's given up a few times, but I told him to try harder . . . and well, being the brilliant scientist that he is, he's made a few modifications to me."

Lana looked him over, knowing she'd have already noticed any changes. "What?"

Clark wanted to make a joke—like that his father had added the ability to finally dance decently, but instead, he gave into the warm sensation that was taking him over, and gripped her hands.

Lana's face then reflected his sudden seriousness.

"Lana, do you remember how I told you that Kryptonians could alter genetics the way that they wanted them?" he said, to which she gave a slow nod. He let out a breath, then couldn't help but smile. "Well, Jor-El had to stretch pretty far to do this, but he's altered me so that all of my offspring will have human DNA—not Kryptonian."

"Which means . . . " she couldn't even continue.

He nodded. "It means that we can have children together."

She jumped right onto Clark, wrapping both her legs and arms around him, happier than he'd ever seen her—or she'd ever been.

"Okay, okay," Clark laughed. "I didn't mean right this second, but . . . "

"I know," she said, kissing him all over. "But I just can't believe it . . . we were going to adopt, and I was fine with that . . . but this!" She choked up, imagining a mini-Clark toddling around their house—with a pretend Superman cape. Clark would be her children's superhero in more than one way.

After they'd talked about every imaginable thing having to do with children, Clark wanted to show Lana something amazing that he'd found. He touched the outside of the chamber, and a screen lit up like a television set. The colors were like nothing Lana had ever seen, and he scanned through memories he'd found of other Kryptonians, blowing Lana away with the imagery of what Krypton looked like—what his parents looked like, and then she saw two familiar faces—Kal and Marg playing ball in the convent garden. Lana latched onto Clark as they watched the wonderful home movie. They viewed several more moments of their time together as father and daughter, then got to a part where Kal was writing a letter to Isa.

"Do you remember me saying that an ancestor of mine found some letters that inspired him to allow for more emotion in Kryptonian genetics?" Clark asked, and Lana nodded with a smile. "Do you want to read one of them?"

"Of course," she said, anxiously watching as Clark found the particular image. And then they read the letter together.

My sweet Isa,

Each night when I lie in bed, I feel the warmth of you in my arms—my angel who was taken much too quickly from me. Never have I known such happiness before nor since you were in my life, but you have left behind the greatest of all treasures to remind me of your beautiful smile, your sparkling eyes. Our little Marg is growing so well, and so fast. She is just as curious as ever, and makes her Papa so very proud. She is every bit a lady as you are, petite and graceful. She gives me the breath that I lost that fateful night—she gives me the strength to go on. Yet not all the moments of joy in the universe combined could stop my heart from aching for you. I am forever yours, and you will always be mine. I love you, my dear Isa. Your loving husband, Kal.

Lana looked up to Clark, to find that he was looking at her as well. "True love really does last a lifetime," Lana said.

"And beyond," Clark added with a smile, then he took Lana's hand and led her to a special place that he'd build just for the two of them—that he'd never allow anyone else to enter.

It was away from everything else in the Fortress—a place of solitude that held more peace than anywhere else on Earth. The gazebo-type room was enclosed from the outside elements—surrounded by ice windows—clear as any made of glass.

She stared out the windows in awe as she walked around the room, peering out over the vast white tundra—she was on top of the world, and it had very little to do with her location.

When she turned back around, Clark was making a snowball in his hand, blowing cold air onto it to increase its size—one new addition at a time. He stepped closer, and closer as he spoke.

"Lana, with every moment we've spent together, we've grown layer upon layer, into a couple that understands completely what gives the other breath," Clark said, still rolling the snowball in his hands. "Every difficult experience has given us strength. We've never given up, we've never surrendered. And every moment of joy, has increased my love for you ten fold. When I lost you, I knew that if I was but half a man, I could go on, but what I discovered is that you are ALL of me—my very reason for living."

Lana's tears were coursing down her face, feeling as though she were already wrapped in his warm arms, the safest place she knew.

Clark was only inches from her now, bringing her hands up, and placing the snowball in them. She looked down at it, then back up to meet his eyes—also filled with tears. He smiled, then looked back to the snowball, gently using his heat vision to melt it.

Slowly water dripped through Lana's fingers, leaving something that made her gasp—a diamond ring—sparkling just as brilliantly as the snow around her.

Clark went down to one knee, and took her now trembling hands. He made eye contact and said, "Lana, I love you more every day, and I can only imagine how very much that love will grow as the years pass," he said, now smiling—just as she was. "Will you be my wife?"

Her first response was a cheerful sob, but then her legs couldn't hold her up anymore, so she dropped to her knees, level with Clark. "Yes, I'll be your wife," she said, reaching out her hand as he slipped the ring on her finger. "And your honey, and sweetie, and baby, and whatever else you want to call me."

They kissed for so long, that the ice windows started to fog up, and the ceiling started to drip on them. Clark took care of it with a little more cold air, then they went back to kissing again.

Eventually, they made it out to the main part of the Fortress, where the chamber was now lit up. "I think someone's ready to meet you," Clark said, carrying Lana in his arms, because he couldn't handle the thought of letting go of her.

That night, Lana met both Lara and Jor-El, and they had a wonderful conversation. Jor-El was actually jovial, Clark thought, which was more than just a stretch for him.

In fact, he made an interesting suggestion at the end of their talk to show his support. He offered to unite them in a Kryptonian marriage ceremony, after their civil ceremony—which was considered binding throughout the universe, not just on Earth.

Both Clark and Lana were thrilled about his offer, and agreed right away. But then Lana had a better idea, which she whispered to Clark.

He looked up proudly, and said to Jor-El. "We'd like you to perform the ceremony tonight—right now, in fact."

They'd save the civil ceremony for later.

After all, they were already in a very cool honeymoon suite.

**THE END . . . NO, ACTUALLY . . . THE BEGINNING**

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ALSO, I'D LOVE IT IF READERS WOULD LEAVE COMMENTS ON BOTH PARTS ONE AND TWO OF THIS STORY ON Thanks for reading! ajfinn


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